
Glass _^- 



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Book '..QJL 




wc ^jep^artmjettt. 

Accession No. 



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AS A MATTER OF COURSE 



As A Matter of Course 



BY 

ANNIE PAYSON CALL 

AUTHOR OF "POWER THROUGH REFUSE* 



^ 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

190 1 






Copyright, 189^, 
By Roberts Brothers. 

Transfer 

Armv War College 

June 20 1933 



John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A. 



^ 



c^ 
^ 







PREFACE. 



The aim of this book is to assist towards 
the removal of nervous irritants, which are not 
only the cause of much physical disease, but 
materially interfere with the best possibilities of 
usefulness and pleasure in everyday life. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Introduction , . . • 9 

II. Physical Care . . . , c . . o . i6 

III. Amusements 25 

IV. Brain Impressions = . » . - . » . 33 
V. The Triviality of Trivialities ... 46 

VI. Moods ...... » S5 

VII. Tolerance 63 

VIII. Sympathy , 74 

IX. Others 83 

X. One's Self . 92 

XI. Children 100 

XII. Illness . . o 107 

XIII. Sentiment versus Sentimentality . . 117 

XIV. Problems ........... 125 

XV. Summary ..« * e .*.... 129 



AS A MATTER OF COURSE. 



I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

TN climbing a mountain, if we know the path 
^ and take it as a matter of course, we are 
free to enjoy the beauties of the surrounding 
country. If in the same journey we see a stone 
in the way and recognize our ability to step 
over it, we do so at once, and save ourselves 
from tripping or from useless waste of time and 
thought as to how we might best go round it. 

There are stones upon stones in every-day 
life which might be stepped over with perfect 
ease, but which, curiously enough, are consid- 
ered from all sides and then tripped upon ; and 
the result is a stubbing of the moral toes, and 
a consequent irritation of the nervous system. 
Or, if semi-occasionally one of these stones is 
stepped over as a matter of course, the danger 



lo As a Matter of Course. 

IS that attention is immediately called to the 
action by admiring friends, or by the person 
himself, in a way so to tickle the nervous system 
that it amounts to an irritation, and causes him 
to trip over the next stone, and finally tumble on 
his nose. Then, if he is not wise enough to 
pick himself up and walk on with the renewed 
ability of stepping over future stones, he remains 
on his nose far longer than is either necessary or 
advisable. 

These various stones in the way do more 
towards keeping a nervous system in a chronic 
state of irritation than is imagined. They are 
what might perhaps be called the outside ele- 
ments of life. These once normally faced, cease 
to exist as impediments, dwindle away, and finally 
disappear altogether. 

^^Thus^Jfe are enabled to get nearer the kernel, 
and have a growing realization of life itself. 

Civilization may give a man new freedom, a 
freedom beyond any power of description or 
conception, except to those who achieve it, or it 
may so bind him body and soul that in moments 
when he recognizes his nervous contractions he 
would willingly sell his hope of immortality to 
be a wild horse or tiger for the rest of his days. 



Introduction. 1 1 

These stones in the way are the result of 
a perversion of civilization, and the cause of 
oiuch contraction and unnecessary suffering. 

There is the physical stone. If the health of 
•^he body were attended to as a matter of course, 
as its cleanliness is attended to by those of us 
who are more civilized, how much easier life 
might be ! Indeed, the various trippings on, and 
endeavorv> to encircle, this physical stone, raise 
many phantom stones, and the severity of the 
fall is just as great when one trips over a stone 
that is not there. Don Quixote was quite ex- 
hausted when he had been fighting the wind- 
mills. One recognizes over and over the truth 
spoken by the little girl who, when reprimanded 
by her father for being fretful, said : '^ It is n't 
7ne^ papa, it 's that banana." 

There is also the over-serious stone ; and this, 
so far from being stepped over or- anjr-^ffoft- 
tr^ade: to encircle it, is often raised to the undue 
dignity of a throne, and not rested upon. It 
seems to produce an inability for any sort of 
recreation, and a scorn of the necessity or the 
pleasure of being amused. Every one will admit 
that recreation is one swing of life's pendulum; 
and in proportion to^ the swing in that direction 



1 2 As a Matter of Course. 

will be the strength of the swing in the other 
direction, and vice versa. 

One kind of stone which is not the least 
among the self-made impediments is the micro- 
scopic faculty which most of us possess for 
increasing small, inoffensive pebbles to good- 
sized rocks. A quiet insistence on seeing these 
pebbles in their natural size would reduce them 
shortly to a pile of sand which might be easily 
smoothed to a level, and add to the comfort 
of the path. Moods are stones which not only 
may be stepped over, but kicked right out of 
the path with a good bold stroke. And the 
stones of intolerance may be replaced by an 
open sympathy, — an ability to take the other's 
point of view, — which will bring flowers in the 
path instead. 

In dealing with ourselves and others there 
are stones innumerable, if one chooses to regard 
them, and a steadily decreasing number as one 
steps over and ignores. In our relations with 
illness and poverty, so-called, the ghosts of 
stones multiply themselves as the illness or the 
poverty is allowed to be a limit rather than 
a guide. And there is nothing that exorcises 
all such ghosts more truly than a free and open 
intercourse with little children. 



Introduction. i 



o 



If we take this business of slipping over our 
various nerve-stones as a matter of course, and 
not as a matter of sentiment, we get a powerful 
result just as surely as we get powerful results 
in obedience to any other practical laws. 

In bygone generations men used to fight and 
kill one another for the most trivial cause. As 
civilization increased, self-control was magnified 
into a virtue, and the man who governed him- 
self and allowed his neighbor to escape unslain 
was regarded as a hero. Subsequently, general 
slashing was found to be incompatible with a 
well-ordered community, and forbearance in 
killing or scratching or any other unseemly 
manner of attacking an enemy was taken as 
a matter of course. 

Nowadays we do not know how often this old 
desire to kill is repressed, a brain-impression 
of hatred thereby intensified, and a nervous 
irritation caused which has its effect upon the 
entire disposition. It would hardly be feasible 
to return to the killing to save the irritation that 
follows repression ; civilization has taken us too 
far for that. But civilization does not neces- 
sarily mean repression. There are many refine- 
ments of barbarity in our civilization which 



14 ^s a Matter of Course. 

might be dropped now, as the coarser expres- 
sions of such states were dropped by our ances- 
tors to enable them to reach the present stage 
of knives and forks and napkins. And inas- 
much as we are farther on the way towards a 
true civiHzation, our progress should be more 
rapid than that of our barbaric grandfathers. 
An increasingly accelerated progress has proved 
possible in scientific research and discovery; 
why not, then, in our practical dealings with 
ourselves and one another? 

Does it not seem likely that the various forms 
of nervous irritation, excitement, or disease may 
result as much from the repressed savage within 
us as from the complexity of civilization? The 
remedy is, not to let the savage have his own 
way; with many of us, indeed, this would be 
difficult, because of the generations of repres- 
sion behind us. It is to cast his skin, so to 
speak, and rise to another order of living. 

Certainly repression is only apparent progress. 
No good physician would allow it in bodily dis- 
ease, and, on careful observation, the law seems 
to hold good in other phases of life. 

There must be a practical way by which 
these stones, these survivals of barbaric times, 



Introduction. 1 5 

may be stepped over and made finally to 
disappear. 

The first necessity is to take the practical 
way, and not the sentimental. Thus true senti- 
ment is found, not lost. 

The second is to follow daily, even hourly, 
the process of stepping over until it comes to 
be indeed a matter of course. So, little by 
little, shall we emerge from this mass of ab- 
normal nervous irritation into what is more 
truly life itself. 



1 6 As a Matter of Course. 

11. 

PHYSICAL CARE. 

O EST, fresh air, exercise, and nourishment, 
•^^ enough of each in proportion to the work 
done, are the material essentials to a healthy 
physique. Indeed, so simple is the whole pro- 
cess of physical care, it would seem absurd to 
write about it at all. The only excuse for such 
writing is the constant disobedience to natural 
laws which has resulted from the useless com- 
plexity of our civilization. 

There is a current of physical order which, if 
one once gets into it, gives an instinct as to what 
to do and what to leave undone, as true as the 
instinct which leads a man to wash his hands 
when they need it, and to wash them often 
enough so that they never remain soiled for any 
length of time, simply because that state is un- 
comfortable to their owner. Soap and water 
are not unpleasant to most of us in their pro- 
cess of cleansing; we have to deny ourselves 
nothing through their use. To keep the diges- 



Physical Care. 17 

tion in order, it is often necessary to deny our- 
selves certain sensations of the palate which are 
pleasant at the time. So by a gradual process 
of not denying we are swung out of the instinct- 
ive nourishment-current, and life is compli- 
cated for us either by an amount of thought 
as to what we should or should not eat, or by 
irritations which arise from having eaten the 
wrong food. It is not uncommon to find a 
mind taken up for some hours in wondering 
whether that last piece of cake will digest. 
We can easily see how from this there might 
be developed a nervous sensitiveness about eat- 
ing which would prevent the individual from 
eating even the food that is nourishing. This 
last is a not unusual form of dyspepsia, — a dys- 
pepsia which keeps itself alive on the patient's 
want of nourishment. 

Fortunately the process of getting back into 
the true food-current is not difficult if one will 
adopt it. The trouble is in making the bold 
plunge. If anything is eaten that is afterwards 
deemed to have been imprudent, let it disagree. 
Take the full consequences and bear them like 
a man, with whatever remedies are found to 
lighten the painful result. Having made sure 



1 8 As a Matter of Course. 

through bitter experience that a particular food 
disagrees, simply do not take it again, and 
think nothing about it. It does not exist for 
you. A nervous resistance to any sort of in- 
digestion prolongs the attack and leaves a 
brain-impression which not only makes the 
same trouble more liable to recur, but in- 
creases the temptation to eat forbidden fruit. 
Of course this is always preceded by a full 
persuasion that the food is not likely to dis- 
agree with us now simply because it did before. 
And to some extent, this is true. Food that will 
bring pain and suffering when taken by a tired 
stomach, may prove entirely nourishing when 
the stomach is rested and ready for it. In that 
case, the owner of the stomach has learned once 
for all never to give his digestive apparatus 
work to do when it is tired. Send a warm drink 
as a messenger to say that food is coming later, 
give yourself a little rest, and then eat your din- 
ner. The fundamental laws of health in eating 
are very simple; their variations for individual 
needs must be discovered by each for himself. 

*' But," it may be objected, '* why make all 
this fuss, why take so much thought about what 
I eat or what I do not eat?'' The special 



Physical Care. 19 

thought is simply to be taken at first to get 
into the normal habit, and as a means of for- 
getting our digestion just as we forget the wash- 
ing of our hands until we are reminded by some 
discomfort; whereupon we wash them and for- 
get again. Nature will not allow us to forget. 
When we are not obeying her laws, she is con- 
stantly irritating us in one way or another. It 
is when we obey, and obey as a matter of 
course, that she shows herself to be a tender 
mother, and helps us to a real companionship 
with her. 

Nothing is more amusing, nothing could ap- 
peal more to Mother Nature's sense of humor, 
than the various devices for exercise which give 
us a complicated self-consciousness rather than 
a natural development of our physical powers. 
Certain simple exercises are most useful, and if 
the weather is so inclement that they cannot be 
taken in the open air, it is good to have a well- 
ventilated hall. Exercise with others, too, is stim- 
ulating, and more invigorating when there is air 
enough and to spare. But there is nothing that 
shows the subjective, self-conscious state of this 
generation more than the subjective form which 
exercise takes. Instead of games and play or 



20 Asa Matter of Course. 

a good vigorous walk in the country, there are 
endless varieties of physical culture, most of it 
good and helpful if taken as a means to an end, 
but almost useless as it is taken as an end in 
itself; for it draws the attention to one's self and 
one's own muscles in a way to make the owner 
serve the muscle instead of the muscle being 
made to serve the owner. The more physical 
exercise can be simplified and made objec- 
tive, the more it serves its end. To climb a 
high mountain is admirable exercise, for we 
have the summit as an end, and the work of 
climbing is steadily objective, while we get the 
delicious effect of a freer circulation and all that 
it means. There might be similar exercises in 
gymnasiums, and there are, indeed, many exer- 
cises where some objective achievement is the 
end, and the training of a muscle follows as a 
matter of course. There is the exercise-instinct; 
we all have it the more perfectly as we obey it. 
If we have suffered from a series of disobe- 
diences, it is a comparatively easy process to 
work back into obedience. 

The fresh-air-instinct is abnormally developed 
with some of us, but only with some. The pop- 
ular fear of draughts is one cause of its loss. 



Physical Care. 21 

The fear of a draught will cause a contraction, 
the contraction will interfere with the circula- 
tion, and a cold is the natural result. 

The effect of vitiated air is well known. The 
necessity, not only for breathing fresh air when 
we are quiet, but for exercising in the open, 
grows upon us as we see the result. To feel 
the need is to take the remedy, as a matter 
of course. 

The rest-instinct is most generally disobeyed, 
most widely needed, and obedience to it would 
bring the most effective results. A restful state of 
mind and body prepares one for the best effects 
from exercise, fresh air, and nourishment. This- 
instinct is the more disobeyed because with the 
need for rest there seems to come an inability 
to take it, so that not only is every impedi- 
ment magnified, but imaginary impediments 
are erected, and only a decided and insistent 
use of the will in dropping everything that 
interferes, whether real or imaginary, will bring 
a whiff of a breeze from the true rest-current. 
Rest is not always silence, but silence is always 
rest; and a real silence of the mind is known 
by very few. Having gained that, or even ap- 
proached it, we are taken by the rest-wind itself, 



22 As a Matter of Course. 

and it Is strong enough to bear our full weight 
as it swings us along to renewed life and new 
strength for work to come. 

The secret is to turn to silence at the first 
hint from nature; and sleep should be the very 
essence of silence itself, 

xA.ll this would be very well if we were free to 
take the right amount of rest, fresh air, exercise, 
and nourishment; but many of us are not. It 
will not be difficult for any one to call to mind 
half a dozen persons who impede the good 
which might result from the use of these four 
necessities simply by complaining that they 
cannot have their full share of either. Indeed, 
some of us may find in ourselves various stones 
of this sort stopping the way. To take what we 
can and be thankful, not only enables us to gain 
more from, every source of health, but opens the 
way for us to see clearly how to get more. 
This complaint, however, is less of an imped- 
iment than the whining and fussing which come 
from those who are free to take all four in 
abundance, and who have the necessity of their 
own especial physical health so much at heart 
that there is room to think of little else. These 
people crowd into the various schools of phys- 



Physical Care. 23 

ical culture by the hundred, pervade the rest- 
cures, and are ready for any new physiological 
fad which may arise, with no result but more 
physical culture, more rest-cure, and more' fads. 
Nay, there is sometimes one other result, — 
disease. That gives them something tangible 
to work for or to work about. But all their 
eating and breathing and exercising and rest- 
ing does not bring lasting vigorous health, 
simply because they work at it as an end, of 
which self is the centre and circumference. 

The sooner our health-instinct is developed, 
and then taken as a matter of course, the sooner 
can the body become a perfect servant, to be 
treated with true courtesy, and then forgotten. 
Here is an instinct of our barbarous ancestry 
which may be kept and refined through all 
future phases of civilization. This instinct is 
natural, and the obedience to it enables us to 
gain more rapidly in other, higher instincts 
which, if our ancestors had at all, were so 
embryonic as not to have attained expression. 

Nourishment, fresh air, exercise, rest, — so far 
as these are not taken simply and in obedience 
to the natural instinct, there arise physical 
stones in the way, stones that form themselves 



24 ^s a Matter of Course. 

into an apparently insurmountable wall. There 
is a stile over that wall, however, if we will but 
open our eyes to see it. This stile, carefully 
climbed, w^ill enable us to step over the few 
stones on the other side, and follow the phys- 
ical path quite clearly. 



Amusements. 25 



III. 

AMUSEMENTS. 

THE ability to be easily and heartily amused 
brings a wholesome reaction from intense 
thought or hard work of any kind which does 
more towards keeping the nervous system in a 
normal state than almost anything else of an 
external kind. 

As a Frenchman very aptly said : *^This is all 
very well, all this study and care to relieve one's 
nerves ; but would it not be much simpler and 
more effective to go and amuse one's self ? " 
The same Frenchman could not realize that in 
many countries amusement is almost a lost art. 
Fortunately, it is not entirely lost ; and the sooner 
it is regained, the nearer we shall be to health 
and happiness. 

One of the chief impediments in the way of 
hearty amusement is over-seriousness. There 
should be two words for '* serious," as there are 
literally two meanings. There is a certain intense 



26 As a Matter of Course. 

form of taking the care and responsibility of 
one's own individual interests, or the interests 
of others which are selfishly made one's own, 
which leads to a surface-seriousness that is not 
only a chronic irritation of the nervous system, 
but a constant distress to those who come under 
this serious care. This is taking life au grand 
serienx. The superficiality of this attitude is 
striking, and would be surprising could the 
sufferer from such seriousness once see himself 
(or more often it is herself) in a clear light. It 
is quite common to call such a person over- 
serious, when in reality he is not serious enough. 
He or she is laboring under a sham seriousness, 
as an actor might who had such a part to play 
and merged himself in the character. These 
people are simply exaggerating their own im- 
portance to life, instead of recognizing life's 
importance to them. An example of this is the 
heroine of Mrs. Ward's '' Robert Elsmere," who 
refused to marry because the family could not 
get on without her; and when finally she con- 
sented, the family lived more happily and 
comfortably than when she considered herself 
their leader. If this woman's seriousness, which 
blinded her judgment, had been real instead of 



Amusements. 27 

sham, the state of the case would have been 
quite clear to her; but then, indeed, there would 
have been no case at all. 

When seriousness is real, it is never intrusive 
and can never be overdone. It is simply a 
quiet, steady obedience to recognized laws fol- 
lowed as a matter of course, which must lead to 
a clearer appreciation of such laws, and of our 
own freedom in obeying them. Whereas with 
a sham seriousness we dwell upon the impor- 
tance of our own relation to the law, and our 
own responsibility in forcing others to obey. 
With the real, it is the law first, and then my 
obedience. With the sham, it is myself first, 
and then the laws ; and often a strained obedi- 
ence to laws of my own making. 

This sham seriousness, which is peculiarly a 
New England trait, but may also be found in 
many other parts of the world, is often the per- 
version of a strong, fine nature. It places many 
stones in the way, most of them phantoms, which, 
once stepped over and then ignored, brings to 
light a nature nobly expansive, and a source of 
joy to all who come in contact with it. But so 
long as the '' seriousness " lasts, it is quite incom- 
patible with any form of real amusement 



28 As a Matter of Course. 

For the very essence of amusement is the 
child-spirit. The child throws himself heartily 
and spontaneously into the game, or whatever it 
may be, and forgets that there is anything else 
in the world, for the time being. Children have 
nothing else to remember. We have the advan- 
tage of them there, in the pleasure of forgetting 
and in the renewed strength with which we can 
return to our work or care, in consequence. 
Any one who cannot play children's games with 
children, and with the same enjoyment that 
children have, does not know the spirit of 
amusement. For this same spirit must be taken 
into all forms of amusement, especially those 
that are beyond the childish mind, to bring the 
delicious reaction which nature is ever ready to 
bestow. This is almost a self-evident truth; and 
yet so confirmed is man in his sham maturity that 
it is quite common to see one look with contempt, 
and a sense of superiority which is ludicrous, 
upon another who is enjoying a child's game 
like a child. The trouble is that many of us 
are so contracted in and oppressed by our own 
self-consciousness that open spontaneity is out 
of the question and even inconceivable. The 
sooner we shake it off, the better. When the 



Amusements. 29 

great philosopher said, ^^ Except ye become as 
little children," he must have meant it all the way 
through in spirit, if not in the letter. It certainly 
is the common-sense view, whichever way we 
look at it, and proves as practical as walking 
upon one's feet. 

With the spontaneity grows the ability to be 
amused, and with that ability comes new power 
for better and really serious work. 

To endeavor with all your might to win, and 
then if you fail, not to care, relieves a game of 
an immense amount of unnecessary nervous 
strain. A spirit of rivalry has so taken hold of 
us and become such a large stone in the way, 
that it takes wellnigh a reversal of all our ideas 
to realize that this same spirit is quite compat- 
ible with a good healthy willingness that the 
other man should win — if he can. Not from 
the goody-goody motive of wishing your neigh- 
bor to beat, — no neighbor would thank you for 
playing with him in that spirit, — but from a 
feeling that you have gone in to beat, you have 
done your best, as far as you could see, and 
where you have not, you have learned to do 
better. The fact of beating is not of paramount 
importance. Every man should have his chance, 



30 As a Matter of Course. 

and, from your opponent's point of view, provided 
you were as severe on him as you knew how to 
be at the time, it is well that he won. You will 
see that it does not happen again. 

Curious it is that the very men or women 
who w^ould scorn to play a child's game in a 
childlike spirit, will show the best known form 
of childish fretfulness and sheer naughtiness in 
their way of taking a game which is considered 
to be more on a level with the adult mind, and 
so rasp their nerves and the nerves of their 
opponents that recreation is simply out of the 
question. 

Whilst one should certainly have the ability 
to enjoy a child's game with a child and like a 
child, that not only does not exclude the prefer- 
ence which many, perhaps most of us may have 
for more mature games, it gives the power to 
play those games with a freedom and ease which 
help to preserve a healthy nervous system. 

If, however, amusement is taken for the sole 
purpose of preserving a normal nervous system, 
or for returning to health, it loses its zest just in 
proportion. If, as is often the case, one must 
force one's self to it at first, the love of the fun will 
gradually come as one ignores the first necessity 



Amusements. 31 

of forcing; and the interest will come sooner if 
a form of amusement is taken quite opposite to 
the daily work, a form which will bring new 
faculties and muscles into action. 

There is, of course, nothing that results in a 
more unpleasant state of ejimd than an excess 
of amusement. After a certain amount of care- 
less enjoyment, life comes to a deadly stupid 
standstill, or the forms of amusement grow 
lower. In either case the effect upon the nervous 
system is worse even than over-work. 

The variety in sources of amusement is 
endless, and the ability to get amusement out of 
almost anything is delightful, as long as it is 
well balanced. 

After all, our amusement depends upon the 
way in which we take our work, and our work^ 
again, depends upon the amusement ; they play 
back and forth into one another's hands. 

The man or the woman who cannot get the 
holiday spirit, who cannot enjoy pure fun for 
the sake of fun, who cannot be at one with a 
little child, not only is missing much in life that 
is clear happiness, but is draining his nervous 
system, and losing his better power for work 
accordingly. 



32 As a Matter of Course. 

This anti-amusement stone once removed, the 
path before us is entirely new and refreshing. 

The power to be amused runs in nations. 
But each individual is in himself a nation, and 
can govern himself as such ; and if he has any 
desire for the prosperity of his own kingdom, let 
him order a public holiday at regular intervals, 
and see that the people enjoy it. 



Brain Lnpressions. 33 



IV. 

BRAIN IMPRESSIONS. 

THE mere idea of a brain clear from false 
impressions gives a sense of freedom 
which is refreshing. 

In a comic journal, some years ago, there was 
a picture of a man in a most self-important 
attitude, with two common mortals in the 
background gazing at him. ^^ What makes 
him stand like that?" said one. ''Because," 
answered the other, '' that is his own idea of 
himself." The truth suggested in that picture 
strikes one aghast; for in looking about us we 
see constant examples of attitudinizing in one's 
own idea of one's self. There is sometimes a 
feeling of fright as to whether I am not quite 
as abnormal in my idea of myself as are those 
about me. 

If one could only get the relief of acknowl- 
edging ignorance of one's self, light would be 
welcome, however given. In seeing the truth 

3 



34 ^s a Matter of Course. 

of an unkind criticism one could forget to 
resent the spirit; and what an amount of nerve- 
friction might be saved ! Imagine the surprise 
of a man who, in return for a volley of abuse, 
should receive thanks for light thrown upon a 
false attitude. Whatever w^e are enabled to see, 
relieves us of one mistaken brain-impression, 
which we can replace by something more agree- 
able. And if, in the excitement of feeling, the 
mistake was exaggerated, what is that to us? 
All we wanted was to see it in quality. As to 
degree, that lessens in proportion as the quality 
is bettered. Fortunately, in living our own idea 
of ourselves, it is only ourselves we deceive, 
with possible exceptions in the case of friends 
who are so used to us, or so over-fond of us, as 
to lose the perspective. 

There is the idea of humility, — an obstinate 
belief that w^e know we are nothing at all, and 
deserve no credit; which, literally translated, 
means we know we are everything, and deserve 
every credit. There is the idea, too, of immense 
dignity, of freedom from all self-seeking and 
from all vanity. But it is idle to attempt to 
catalogue these various forms of private theatri- 
cals ; they are constantly to be seen about ua 



Brain Impressions. 35 

It is with surprise unbounded that one hears 
another calmly assert that he is so-and-so or 
so-and-so, and in his next action, or next hun- 
dred actions, sees that same assertion entirely 
contradicted. Daily familiarity with the mani- 
festations of mistaken brain-impressions does 
not lessen one's surprise at this curious personal 
contradiction ; it gives one an increasing desire 
to look to one's self, and see how far these 
private theatricals extend in one's own case, 
and to throw ofif the disguise, as far as it is 
seen, with a full acknowledgment that there 
may be — probably is — an abundance more of 
which to rid one's self in future. There are 
many ways in which true openness in life, one 
with another, would be of immense service; 
and not the least of these is the ability gained 
to erase false brain-impressions. 

The self-condemnatory brain-impression is 
quite as pernicious as its opposite. Singularly 
enough, it goes with it. One often finds inor- 
dinate self-esteem combined with the most ab- 
ject condemnation of self. One can be played 
against the other as a counter-irritant; but this 
only as a process of rousing, for the irritation of 
either brings equal misery. I am not even sure 



36 As a Matter of Course. 

that as a rousing process it is ever really useful. 
To be clear of a mistaken brain-impression, a 
man must recognize it himself; and this recogni- 
tion can never be brought about by an unasked 
attempt of help from another. It is often 
cleared by help asked and given ; and perhaps 
more often by help which is quite involuntary 
and unconscious. One of the greatest points in 
friendly diplomacy is to be open and absolutely 
frank so far as we are asked, but never to go 
beyond. At least, in the experience of many, 
that leads more surely to the point where no 
diplomacy is needed, which is certainly the point 
to be aimed at in friendship. It is trying to see 
a friend living his own idea of himself, and to 
be obliged to wait until he has discovered that 
he is only playing a part. But this very waiting 
may be of immense assistance in reducing our 
own moral attitudinizing. 

How often do we hear others or find ourselves 
complaining of a fault over and over again ! '' I 
know that is a fault of mine, and has been for 
years. I wish I could get over it." " I know 
that is a fault of mine," — one brain-impression; 
" it has been for years," — a dozen or more 
brain-impressions, according to the number of 



Brain Impressions. 37 

years; until we have drilled the impression of 
that fault in, by emphasizing it over and over, 
to an extent which daily increases the difficulty 
of dropping it. 

So, if we have the habit of unpunctuality, and 
emphasize it by deploring it, it keeps us always 
behind time. If we are sharp-tongued, and 
dwell with remorse on something said in the 
past, it increases the tendency in the future. 

The slavery to nerve habit is a well-known 
physiological fact ; but nerve habit may be 
strengthened negatively as well as positively. 
When this is more widely recognized, and the 
negative practice avoided, much will have been 
done towards freeing us from our subservience 
to mistaken brain-impressions. 

Let us take an instance : unpunctuality, for 
example, as that is a common form of repeti- 
tion. If we really want to rid ourselves of the 
habit, suppose every time we are late we cease 
to deplore it ; make a vivid mental picture of 
ourselves as being on time at the next appoint- 
ment; then, with the how and the when clearly 
impressed upon our minds, there should be an 
absolute refusal to imagine ourselves anything 
but early. Surely that would be quite as effec- 



38 As a Matter of Course. 

tive as a constant repetition of the regret we 
feel at being late, whether this is repeated aloud 
to others, or only in our own minds. As we 
place the two processes side by side, the latter 
certainly has the advantage, and might be tried, 
until a better is found. 

Of course we must beware of getting an 
impression of promptness which has no ground 
in reality. It is quite possible for an individual 
to be habitually and exasperatingly late, with all 
the air and innocence of unusual punctuality. 

It would strike us as absurd to see a man 
painting a house the color he did not like, and 
go on painting it the same color, to show others 
and himself that which he detested. Is it not 
equally absurd for any of us, through the con- 
stant expression of regret for a fault, to impress 
the tendency to it more and more upon the 
brain? It is intensely sad when the conscious- 
ness of evil once committed has so impressed 
a man with a sense of guilt as to make him 
steadily undervalue himself and his own powers. 

Here is a case where one's own idea of one's 
self is seventy-five per cent below par; and a 
gentle and consistent encouragement in raising 
that idea is most necessary before par is reached* 



Brain Impressions. 39 

And par, as I understand it, is simple freedom 
from any fixed idea of one's self, either good 
or bad. 

If fixed impressions of one's self are stones 
in the way, the same certainly holds good with 
fixed impressions of others. Unpleasant brain- 
impressions of others are great weights, and 
greater impediments in the way of clearing 
our own brains. Suppose So-and-so had such 
a fault yesterday ; it does not follow that he 
has not rid himself of at least part of it to-day. 
Why should we hold the brain-impression 
of his mistake, so that every time we look 
at him we make it stronger ? He is not the 
gainer thereby, and we certainly are the losers. 
Repeated brain-impressions of another's faults 
prevent our discerning his virtues. We are 
constantly attributing to him disagreeable mo- 
tives, which arise solely from our idea of him, 
and of which he is quite innocent. Not oniy 
so, but our mistaken impressions increase his 
difficulty in rising to the best of himself For any 
one whose temperament is in the least sensitive 
is oppressed by what he feels to be another's 
idea of him, until he learns to clear himself of 
that as well as of other brain-impressions. 



40 As a Matter of Course. 

It is not uncommon to hear one go over 
and over a supposed injury, or even small 
annoyances from others, with the reiterated 
assertion that he fervently desires to forget such 
injury or annoyances. This fervent desire to 
forgive and forget expresses kself by a repeated 
brain-impression of that which is to be for- 
given; and if this is so often repeated in words, 
how many times more must it be repeated men* 
tally! Thus, the brain-impression is increased 
until at last forgetting seems out of the question. 
And forgiving is impossible unless one can at 
the same time so entirely forget the ill-feeling 
roused as to place it beyond recall. 

Surely, if we realized the force and influence 
of unpleasant brain-impressions, it would be a 
simple matter to relax and let them escape, to 
be replaced by others that are only pleasant. 
It cannot be that we enjoy the discomfort of 
the disagreeable impressions. 

And yet, so curiously perverted is human 
nature that we often hear a revolting story told 
with the preface, '' Oh, I can't bear to think 
of it ! " And the whole story is given, with a 
careful attention to detail which is quite unneces- 
sary, even if there were any reason for telling 



Brain Impressions. 41 

the story at all, and generally concluded with a 
repetition of the prefatory exclamation. How 
many pathetic sights are told of, to no end but 
the repetition of an unpleasant brain-impression. 
How many past experiences, past illnesses, are 
gone over and over, which serve the same worse 
than useless purpose, — that of repeating and 
emphasizing the brain-impression. 

A little pain is made a big one by persistent 
dwelling upon it ; what might have been a short 
pain is sometimes lengthened for a lifetime. 
Similarly, an old pain is brought back by 
recalling a brain-impression. 

The law of association is well known. We all 
know how familiar places and happenings will 
recall old feelings ; we can realize this at any 
time by mentally reviving the association. By 
dwelling on the pain we had yesterday we are 
encouraging it to return to-morrow. By empha- 
sizing the impression of an annoyance of to-day 
we are making it possible to suffer beyond 
expression from annoyances to come; and the 
annoyances, the pains, the disagreeable feelings 
will find their old brain-grooves with remarkable 
rapidity when given the ghost of a chance. 

I have known more than one case where a 



42 As a Matter of Course. 

woman kept herself ill by the constant repeti- 
tion, to others and to herself, of a nervous 
shock. A woman who had once been fright- 
ened by burglars refused to sleep for fear of 
being awakened by more burglars, thus increas- 
ing her impression of fear; and of course, if she 
slept at all, she was liable at any time to wake 
with a nervous start. The process of working 
herself into nervous prostration through this 
constant, useless repetition was not slow. 

The fixed impressions of preconceived ideas 
in any direction are strangely in the way of real 
freedom. It is difficult to catch new harmonies 
with old ones ringing in our ears; still more 
difficult when we persist in listening at the 
same time to discords. 

The experience of arguing with another whose 
preconceived idea is so firmly fixed that the 
argument is nothing but a series of circles, 
might be funny if it were not sad ; and it often 
is funny, in spite of the sadness. 

Suppose we should insist upon retaining an 
unpleasant brain-impression, only when and so 
long as it seemed necessary in order to bring 
a remedy. That accomplished, suppose we 
dropped it on the instant. Suppose, further, 



Brain Impressions. 43 

that we should continue this process, and never 
allow ourselves to repeat a disagreeable brain- 
impression aloud or mentally. Imagine the 
result. Nature abhors a vacuum; something 
must come in place of the unpleasantness; 
therefore way is made for feelings more com- 
fortable to one's self and to others. 

Bad feelings cause contraction, good ones 
expansion. Relax the muscular contraction; 
take a long, free breath of fresh air, and expan- 
sion follows as a matter of course. Drop 
the brain-contraction, take a good inhalation 
of whatever pleasant feeling is nearest, and the 
expansion is a necessary consequence. 

As we expand mentally, disagreeable brain- 
impressions, that in former contracted states 
were eclipsed by greater ones, will be keenly 
felt, and dropped at once, for the mere relief 
thus obtained. 

The healthier the brain, the more sensitive it 
is to false impressions, and the more easily are 
they dropped. 

One word by way of warning. We never can 
rid ourselves of an uncomfortable brain-impres- 
sion by saying, ** I will try to think something 
pleasant of that disagreeable man." The temp- 



44 ^^ ^ Matter of Course. 

tation, too, is very common to say to ourselves 
clearly, " I will try to think something pleasant/* 
and then leave *' of that disagreeable man '' a 
subtle feeling in the background. The feeling 
in the background, however unconscious we may 
be of it, is a strong brain-impression, — all the 
stronger because we fail to recognize it, — and 
the result of our *' something pleasant" is an 
insidious complacency at our own magnanimous 
disposition. Thus we get the disagreeable 
brain-impression of another, backed up by our 
agreeable brain-impression of ourselves, both 
mistaken. Unless we keep a sharp look-out, we 
may here get into a snarl from which extrication 
is slow work. Neither is it possible to counter- 
act an unpleasant brain-impression by something 
pleasant but false. We must call a spade a 
spade, but not consider it a component part of 
the man who handles it, nor yet associate the 
man with the spade, or the spade with the man. 
When we drop it, so long as we drop it for 
what it is worth, which is nothing in the case 
of the spade in question, we have dropped it 
entirely. If we try to improve our brain-impres- 
sion by insisting that a spade is something 
better and pleasanter, we are transforming a 



Brain Impressions. 45 

disagreeable impression to a mongrel state which 
again brings anything but a happy result. 

Simply to refuse all unpleasant brain-impres- 
sions, with no effort or desire to recast them 
into something that they are not, seems to be 
the only clear process to freedom. Not only 
so, but whatever there might have been pleasant 
in what seemed entirely unpleasant can more 
truly return as we drop the unpleasantness com- 
pletely. It is a good thing that most of us 
can approach the freedom of such a change 
in imagination before we reach it in reality. 
So we can learn more rapidly not to hamper 
ourselves or others by retaining disagreeable 
brain-impressions of the present, or by recalling 
others of the past. 



46 As a Matter of Course. 



V. 

THE TRIVIALITY OF TRIVIALITIES. 

T IFE is clearer, happier, and easier for us 
-* — ' as things assume their true proportions. 
I might better say, as they come nearer in 
appearance to their true proportions; for it 
seems doubtful whether any one ever reaches 
the place in this world where the sense of pro- 
portion is absolutely normal. Some come much 
nearer than others ; and part of the interest of 
living is the growing realization of better pro* 
portion, and the relief from the abnormal state 
in which circumstances seem quite out of 
proportion in their relation to one another. 

Imagine a landscape-painter who made his 
cows as large as the houses, his blades of grass 
waving above the tops of the trees, and all 
things similarly disproportionate. Or, worse, 
imagine a disease of the retina which caused 
a like curious change in the landscape itself- 



The Triviality of Trivialities, 47 

wherein a mountain appeared to be a mole-hill, 
and a mole-hill a mountain. 

It seems absurd to think of. And, yet, is not 
the want of a true sense of proportion in the 
circumstances and relations of life quite as 
extreme with many of us ? It is well that our 
physical sense remains intact. If we lost that 
too, there would seem to be but little hope 
indeed. Now, almost the only thing needed 
for a rapid approach to a more normal mental 
sense of proportion is a keener recognition of 
the want. But this want must be found first 
in ourselves, not in others. There is the incli- 
nation to regard our own life as bigger and 
more important than the life of any one about 
us ; or the reverse attitude of bewailing its lack 
of importance, which is quite the same. In 
either case our own life is dwelt upon first. 
Then there is the immediate family, after that 
our own especial friends, — all assuming a gigan- 
tic size which puts quite out of the question an 
occasional bird's-eye view of the world in gen- 
eral. Even objects ^vhich might be in the 
middle distance of a less extended view are 
quite screened by the exaggerated size of those 
which seem to concern us most immediately. 



48 As a Matter of Course. 

One's own life is important ; one's own family 
and friends are important, very, when taken in 
their true proportion. One should surely be 
able to look upon one's own brothers and sisters 
as if they were the brothers and sisters of 
another, and to regard the brothers and sis- 
ters of another as one's own. Singularly, too, 
real appreciation of and sympathy with one's 
own grows with this broader sense of relation- 
ship. In no way is this sense shown more 
clearly than by a mother who has the breadth 
and the strength to look upon her own children 
as if they belonged to some one else, and upon 
the children of others as if they belonged to 
her. But the triviality of magnifying one's own 
out of all proportion has not yet been recog- 
nized by many. 

So every trivial happening in our own lives 
or the lives of those connected with us is exag- 
gerated, and we keep ourselves and others in a 
chronic state of contraction accordingly. 

Think of the many trifles which, by being 
magnified and kept in the foreground, obstruct 
the way to all possible sight or appreciation of 
things that really hold a more important place. 
The cook, the w^aitress, various other annoy- 



The Triviality of Trivialities. 49 

ances of housekeeping; a gown that does not 
suit, the annoyances of travel, whether we said 
the right thing to so-and-so, whether so-and-so 
likes us or does not Hke us, — indeed, there is 
an immense army of trivial imps, and the 
breadth of capacity for entertaining these imps 
is so large in some of us as to be truly en- 
couraging; for if the domain were once deserted 
by the imps, there remains the breadth, which 
must have the same capacity for holding some- 
thing better. Unfortunately, a long occupancy 
by these miserable little offenders means even- 
tually the saddest sort of contraction. What 
a picture for a new Gulliver! — a human being 
overwhelmed by the imps of triviality, and 
bound fast to the ground by manifold windings 
of their cobweb-sized thread. 

This exaggeration of trifles is one form of 
nervous disease. It would be exceedingly 
interesting and profitable to study the various 
phases of nervous disease as exaggerated ex- 
pressions of perverted character. They can be 
traced directly and easily in many cases. If a 
woman fusses about trivialities, she fusses more 
when she is tired. The more fatigue, the more 
fussing; and with a persistent tendency to 

4 



50 As a Matter of Course. 

fatigue and fussing it does not take long to 
work up or down to nervous prostration. From 
this form of nervous excitement one never really 
recovers, except by a hearty acknowledgment 
of the trivialities as trivialities, when, with 
growing health, there is a growing sense of 
true proportion. 

I have seen a woman spend more attention, 
time, and nerve-power on emphasizing the fact 
that her hands were all stained from the dye on 
her dress than a normal woman would take for 
a good hour's work. As she grew better, this 
emphasizing of trivialities decreased, but, of 
course, might have returned with any over- 
fatigue, unless it had been recognized, taken at 
its worth, and simply dropped. Any one can 
think of example after example in his own 
individual experience, when he has suffered 
unnecessary tortures through the regarding of 
trifling things, either by himself or by some 
one near him. With many, the first instance 
will probably be to insist, with emphasis and 
some feeling, that they are not trivialities. 

Trivialities have their importance when given 
their true proportion. The size of a triviality 
is often exaggerated as much by neglect as by 



The Triviality of Trivialities, 5 1 

an undue amount of attention. When we do 
what we can to amend an annoyance, and then 
think no more about it until there appears 
something further to do, the saving of nervous 
force is very great. Yet, so successful have 
these imps of triviality come to be in their rule 
of human nature that the trivialities of the past 
are oftentimes dwelt upon with as much earnest- 
ness as if they belonged to the present. 

The past itself is a triviality, except in its 
results. Yet what an immense screen it is 
sometimes to any clear understanding or ap- 
preciation of the present ! How many of us 
have listened over and over to the same tale 
of past annoyances, until we wonder how it 
can be possible that the constant repetition is 
not recognized by the narrator ! How many of 
us have been over and over in our minds past 
troubles, little and big, so that we have no right 
whatever to feel impatient when listening to 
such repetitions by others ! Here again we 
have, in nervous disease, the extreme of a 
common trait in humanity. With increased 
nervous fatigue there is always an increase of 
the tendency to repetition. Best drop it before 
it gets to the fatigue stage, if possible. 



52 As a Matter of Course. 

Then again there are the common things of 
life, such as dressing and undressing, and the 
numberless every-day duties. It is possible to 
distort them to perfect monstrosities by the 
manner of dwelling upon them. Taken as a 
matter of course, they are the very triviality 
of trivialities, and assume their place without 
second thought. 

When life seems to get into such a snarl 
that we despair of disentangling it, a long 
journey and change of human surroundings 
enable us to take a distant view, which not 
uncommonly shows the tangle to be no tangle 
at all. Although we cannot always go upon 
a material journey, we can change the mental 
perspective, and it is this adjustment of the 
focus which brings our perspective into truer 
proportions. Having once found what appears 
to be the true focus, let us be true to it. The 
temptations to lose one's focus are many, and 
sometimes severe. When temporarily thrown 
off our balance, the best help is to return at 
once, without dwelling on the fact that we have 
lost the focus longer than is necessary to find 
it again. After that, our focus is better ad- 
justed and the range steadily expanded. It is 



The Triviality of Trivialities, 53 

impossible for us to widen the range by think- 
ing about it; holding the best focus we know 
in our daily experience does that. Thus the 
proportions arrange themselves; we cannot 
arrange the proportions. Or, what is more 
nearly the truth, the proportions are in reality 
true, to begin with. As with the imaginary 
eye-disease, which transformed the relative 
sizes of the component parts of a landscape, 
the fault is in the eye, not in the landscape; 
so, when the circumstances of life are quite in 
the wrong proportion to one another, in our 
own minds, the trouble is in the mental sight, 
not in the circumstances. 

There are many ways of getting a better 
focus, and ridding one's self of trivial annoy- 
ances. One is, to be quiet; get at a good 
mental distance. Be sure that you have a clear 
view, and then hold it Always keep your 
distance; never return to the old stand-point 
if you can manage to keep away. 

We may be thankful if trivialities annoy us 
as trivialities. It is with those who have the 
constant habit of dwelling on them without 
feeling the discomfort that a return to freedom 
seems impossible. 



54 ^^ ^ Matter of Course. 

As one comes to realize, even in a slight 
degree, the triviality of trivialities, and then 
forget them entirely in a better idea of true 
proportion, the sense of freedom gained is well 
worth working for. It certainly brings the 
possibility of a normal nervous system much 
nearer. 



Moods. 55 



VI. 

MOODS. 

RELIEF from the mastery of an evil mood 
is like fresh air after having been several 
hours in a close room. 

If one should go to work deliberately to 
break up another's nervous system, and if one 
were perfectly free in methods of procedure, 
the best way would be to throw upon the victim 
in rapid sequence a long series of the most 
extreme moods. The disastrous result could 
be hastened by insisting that each mood should 
be resisted as it manifested itself, for then there 
would be the double strain, — the strain of the 
mood, and the strain of resistance. It is better 
to let a mood have its way than to suppress it. 
The story of the man who suffered from vari- 
cose veins and was cured by the waters of 
Lourdes, only to die a little later from an 
affection of the heart which arose from the 
suppression of the former disease, is a good 



56 As a Matter ofCom^se. 

illustration of the effect of mood-suppression. 
In the case cited, death followed at once; but 
death from repeated impressions of moods 
resisted is long drawn out, and the suffering 
intense, both for the patient and for his friends. 

The only way to drop a mood is to look it 
in the face and call it by its right name ; then 
by persistent ignoring, sometimes in one way, 
sometimes in another, finally drop it altogether. 
It takes a looser hold next time, and eventually 
slides off entirely. To be sure, over-fatigue, an 
attack of indigestion, or some unexpected con- 
tact with the same phase in another, may bring 
back the ghost of former moods. These ghosts 
may even materialize, unless the practice of 
ignoring is at once referred to ; but they can 
ultimately be routed completely. 

A great help in gaining freedom from moods 
is to realize clearly their superficiality. Moods 
are deadly, desperately serious things when 
taken seriously and indulged in to the full 
extent of their power. They are like a tiny 
spot directly in front of the eye. We see that, 
and that only. It blurs and shuts out every- 
thing else. We groan and suffer and are un- 
happy and wretched, still persistently keeping 



Moods. 57 

our eye on the spot, until finally we forget that 
there is anything else in the world. In mind 
and body we are impressed by that and that 
alone. Thus the difficulty of moving off a little 
distance is greatly increased, and liberation is 
impossible until we do move away, and, by a 
change of perspective, see the spot for what it 
really is. 

Let any one who is ruled by moods, in a 
moment when he is absolutely free from them, 
take a good look at all past moody states, and 
he will see that they come from nothing, go to 
nothing, and are nothing. Indeed, that has 
been and is often done by the moody person, 
with at the same time an unhappy realization 
that when the moods are on him, they are as 
real as they are unreal when he is free. To 
treat a mood as a good joke when you are in 
its clutches, is simply out of the question. But 
to say, '* This now is a mood. Come on, do your 
worst; I can stand it as long as you can," takes 
away all nerve-resistance, until the thing has 
nothing to clutch, and dissolves for want of 
nourishment. If it proves too much for one at 
times, and breaks out in a bad expression of 
some sort, a quick acknowledgment that you 



58 As a Matter of Course. 

are under the spell of a bad mood, and a 
further invitation to come on if it wants to, 
will loosen the hold again. 

If the mood is a melancholy one, speak as 
little as possible under its influence; go on and 
do whatever there is to be done, not resisting 
it in any way, but keep busy. 

This non-resistance can, perhaps, be better 
illustrated by taking, instead of a mood, a person 
who teases. It is well known that the more we 
are annoyed, the more our opponent teases ; and 
that the surest and quickest way of freeing our- 
selves is not to be teased. We can ignore the 
teaser externally with an internal irritation 
which he sees as clearly as if we expressed it. 
We can laugh in such a way that every sound 
of our own voice proclaims the annoyance we 
are trying to hide. It is when we take his 
words for what they are worth, and go with 
him^ that the wind is taken out of his sails, and 
he stops because there is no fun in it. The ex- 
perience with a mood is quite parallel, though 
rather more difficult at first, for there is no 
enemy like the enemies in one's self, no teasing 
like the teasing from one's self. It takes a little 
longer, a little heartier and more persistent 



Moods, 59 

process of non-resistance to cure the teasing 
from one's own nature. But the process is just 
as certain, and the freedom greater in result. 

Why is it not clear to us that to set our teeth, 
clench our hands, or hold any form of extreme 
tension and mistaken control, doubles, trebles, 
quadruples the impression of the feeling con- 
trolled, and increases by many degrees its 
power for attacking us another time? Persis- 
tent control of this kind gives a certain sort of 
strength. It might be called sham strength, for 
it takes it out of one in other ways. But the 
control that comes from non-resistance brings 
a natural strength, which not only steadily in- 
creases, but spreads on all sides, as the growth 
of a tree is even in its development. 

" If a man takes your cloak, give him your 
coat also ; if one compel you to go a mile, go 
with him twain." ^' Love your enemies, do good 
to them that hurt you, and pray for them that 
despitefully use you." Why have we been so 
long in realizing the practical, I might say the 
physiological, truth of this great philosophy? 
Possibly because in forgiving our enemies we 
have been so impressed with the idea that it 
was our enemies we w^ere forgiving. If we 



6o As a Matter of Course. 

realized that following this philosophy would 
bring us real freedom, it would be followed 
steadily as a matter of course, and with no more 
sense that we deserved credit for doing a good 
thing than a man might have in walking out 
of prison when his jailer opened the door. So 
it is with our enemies the moods. 

I have written heretofore of bad moods only. 
But there are moods and moods. In a degree, 
certainly, one should respect one's moods. 
Those who are subject to bad moods are equally 
subject to good ones, and the superficiality of 
the happier modes is just as much to be recog- 
nized as that of the wretched ones. In fact, 
in recognizing the shallowness of our happy 
moods, we are storing ammunition for a healthy 
openness and freedom from the opposite forms. 
With the full realization that a mood is a mood, 
we can respect it, and so gradually reach a 
truer evenness of life. Moods are phases that 
we are all subject to whilst in the process of 
finding our balance ; the more sensitive and 
finer the temperament, the more moods. The 
rhythm of moods is most interesting, and there 
is a spice about the change which we need to 
give relish to these first steps towards the art 
of living. 



Moods, 6 1 

It is when their seriousness is exaggerated 
that they lose their power for good and make 
slaves of us. The seriousness may be equally 
exaggerated in succumbing to them and in 
resisting them. In either case they are our 
masters, and not our slaves. They are steady 
consumers of the nervous system in their ups 
and downs when they master us ; and of course 
retain no jot of that fascination which is a good 
part of their very shallowness, and brings new 
life as we take them as a matter of course. 
Then we are swung in their rhythm, never once 
losing sight of the point that it is the mood that 
is to serve us, and not we the mood. 

As we gain freedom from our own moods, we 
are enabled to respect those of others and give 
up any endeavor to force a friend out of his 
moods, or even to lead him out, unless he shows 
a desire to be led. Nor do we rejoice fully in 
the extreme of his happy moods, knowing the 
certain reaction. 

Respect for the moods of others is necessary 
to a perfect freedom from our own. In one 
sense no man is alone in the world ; in another 
sense every man is alone; and with moods 
especially, a man must be left to work out his 



62 As a Matter of Course. 

own salvation, unless he asks for help. So, as 
he understands his moods, and frees himself 
from their mastery, he will find that moods are 
in reality one of Nature's gifts, a sort of melody 
which strengthens the harmony of life and gives 
it fuller tone. 

Freedom from moods does not mean the loss 
of them, any more than non-resistance means 
allowing them to master you. It is non-resis- 
tance, with the full recognition of what they are, 
that clears the way. 



Tolerance. 63 



VII. 
TOLERANCE. 

WHEN we are tolerant as a matter of 
course, the nervous system is relieved 
of almost the worst form of persistent irritation 
it could have. 

The freedom of tolerance can only be appre- 
ciated by those who have known the suffering 
of intolerance and gained relief. 

A certain perspective is necessary to a recog- 
nition of the full absurdity of intolerance. One 
of the greatest absurdities of it is evident when 
we are annoyed and caused intense suffering by 
our intolerance of others, and, as a consequence, 
blame others for the fatigue or illness which 
follows. However mistaken or blind other 
people may be in their habits or their ideas, 
it is entirely our fault if we are annoyed by 
them. The slightest blame given to another in 
such a case, on account of our suffering, is 
quite out of place. 



64 ^s a Matter of Course. 

Our intolerance is often unconscious. It is 
disguised under one form of annoyance or 
another, but when looked full in the face, it 
can only be recognized as intolerance. 

Of course, the most severe form is when the 
belief, the action, or habit of another interferes 
directly with our own selfish aims. That brings 
the double annoyance of being thwarted and of 
rousing more selfish antagonism. 

Where our selfish desires are directly inter- 
fered with, or even where an action which we 
know to be entirely right is prevented, intoler- 
ance only makes matters worse. If expressed, 
it probably rouses bitter feelings in another. 
Whether we express it openly or not, it keeps 
us in a state of nervous irritation which is often 
most painful in its results. Such irritation, if 
not extreme in its effect, is strong enough to 
keep any amount of pure enjoyment out of 
life. 

There may be some one who rouses our intol- 
erant feelings, and who may have many good 
points which might give us real pleasure and 
profit; but they all go for nothing before our 
blind, restless intolerance. 

It is often the case that this imaginary enemy 



Tolerance. 65 

IS found to be a friend and ally in reality, if 
we once drop the wretched state of intolerance 
long enough to see him clearly. 

Yet the promptest answer to such an assertion 
will probably be, '* That may be so in some 
cases, but not with the man or woman who 
rouses my intolerance." 

It is a powerful temptation, this one of 
intolerance, and takes hold of strong natures; 
it frequently rouses tremendous tempests before 
it can be recognized and ignored. And with 
the tempest comes an obstinate refusal to call 
it by its right name, and a resentment towards 
others for rousing in us what should not have 
been there to be roused. 

So long as a tendency to anything evil is in 
us, it is a good thing to have it roused, recog- 
nized, and shaken off; and we might as reason- 
ably blame a rock, over which we stumble, 
for the bruises received, as blame the person 
who rouses our intolerance for the suffering 
we endure. 

This intolerance, which is so useless, seems 
strangely absurd when it is roused through 
some interference v/ith our own plans ; but it 
is stranger when we are rampant against a 

S 



66 As a Matter of Course, 

belief which does not in any way interfere 
with us. 

This last form is more prevalent in antago- 
nistic religious beliefs than in anything else. 
The excuse given would be an earnest desire 
for the salvation of our opponent. But who 
ever saved a soul through an ungracious in- 
tolerance of that soul's chosen way of believ- 
ing or living? The danger of loss would seem 
to be all on the other side. 

One's sense of humor is touched, in spite of 
one's self, to hear a war of words and feeling 
between two Christians whose belief is supposed 
to be founded on the axiom, '* Judge not, that 
ye be not judged.'' 

Without this intolerance, argument is inter- 
esting, and often profitable. With it, the dis- 
putants gain each a more obstinate belief in 
his own doctrines; and the excitement is 
steadily destructive to the best health of the 
nervous system. * 

Again, there is the intolerance felt from 
various little ways and habits of others, — habits 
which are comparatively nothing in themselves, 
but which are monstrous in their effect upon a 
person who is intolerant of them. 



Tolerance. 67 

One might almost think we enjoyed irritated 
nerves, so persistently do we dwell upon the 
personal peculiarities of others. Indeed, there 
is no better example of biting off one's own 
nose than the habit of intolerance. It might 
more truly be called the habit of irritating one's 
own nervous system. 

Having recognized intolerance as intolerance, 
having estimated it at its true worth, the next 
question is, how to get rid of it. The habit 
has, not infrequently, made such a strong brain- 
impression that, in spite of an earnest desire to 
shake it off, it persistently clings. 

Of course, the soil about the obnoxious 
growth is loosened the moment we recognize 
its true quality. That is a beginning, and the 
rest is easier than might be imagined by those 
who have not tried it. 

Intolerance is an unwillingness that others 
should live in their own way, believe as they 
prefer to, hold personal habits which they enjoy 
or are unconscious of, or interfere in any degree 
with our ways, beliefs, or habits. 

That very sense of unwillingness causes a 
contraction of the nerves which is wasteful and 
disagreeable. The feeling rouses the contrac- 



68 As a Matter of Course. 

tion, the contraction more feeling; and so the 
intolerance is increased in cause and in efifect. 
The immediate effect of being willing, on the con- 
trary, is, of course, the relaxation of such contrac- 
tion, and a healthy expansion of the nerves. 

Try the experiment on some small pet form 
of intolerance. Try to realize what it is to feel 
quite zvilliitg. Say over and over to yourself 
that you are quite willing So-and-so should 
make that curious noise with his mouth. Do 
not hesitate at the simplicity of saying the 
words to yourself; that brings a much quicker 
effect at first By and by we get accustomed 
to the sensation of willingness, and can recall 
it with less repetition of words, or without 
words at all. When the feeling of nervous 
annoyance is roused by the other, counteract 
it on the instant by repeating silently : '* I am 
quite willing you should do that, — do it again.'* 
The man or woman, whoever he or she may be, 
is quite certain to oblige you ! There will be 
any number of opportunities to be willing, until 
by and by the willingness is a matter of course, 
and it would not be surprising if the habit 
passed entirely unnoticed, as far as you are 
concerned. 



Tolerance. 69 

This experiment tried successfully on small 
things can be carried to greater. If steadily 
persisted in, a good fifty per cent of wasted 
nervous force can be saved for better things ; 
and this saving of nervous force is the least gain 
which comes from a thorough riddance of every 
form of intolerance. 

'' But," it will be objected, *' how can I say 
I am willing when I am not? '' 

Surely you can see no good from the irrita- 
tion of unwillingness ; there can be no real gain 
from it, and there is every reason for giving it up. 
A clear realization of the necessity for willing- 
ness, both for our own comfort and for that of 
others, helps us to its repetition in words. The 
words said with sincere purpose, help us to 
the feeling, and so we come steadily into clearer 
light. 

Our very willingness that a friend should 
go the wrong way, if he chooses, gives us 
new power to help him towards the right. 
If we are moved by intolerance, that is self- 
ishness; with it will come the desire to force 
our friend into the way which we consider 
right. Such forcing, if even apparently suc- 
cessful, invariably produces a reaction on the 



70 As a Matter of Course, 

friend's part, and disappointment and chagrin 
on our own. 

The fact that most great reformers were and 
are actuated by the very spirit of intolerance, 
makes that scorning of the ways of others seem 
to us essential as the root of all great reform. 
Amidst the necessity for and strength in the 
reform, the petty spirit of intolerance intrudes 
unnoticed. But if any one wants to see it in 
full-fledged power, let him study the family of a 
reformer who have inherited the intolerance of 
his nature without the work to which it was 
applied. 

This intolerant spirit is not indispensable to 
great reforms; but it sometimes goes with them, 
and is made use of, as intense selfishness may 
often be used, for higher ends. The ends might 
have been accomplished more rapidly and more 
effectually with less selfish instruments. But 
man must be left free, and if he will not offer 
himself as an open channel to his highest im- 
pulses, he is used to the best advantage possible 
without them. 

There is no finer type of a great reformer 
than Jesus Christ; in his life there was no 
shadow of intolerance. From first to last, 



Tolerance, 71 

he showed wiUiiigness in spirit and in action. 
In upbraiding the Scribes and Pharisees he 
evinced no feehng of antagonism ; he merely- 
stated the facts. The same firm calm truth 
of assertion, carried out in action, characterized 
his expulsion of the money-changers from the 
temple. When he was arrested, and through- 
out his trial and execution, it was his accusers 
who showed the intolerance ; they sent out 
with swords and staves to take him, with a 
show of antagonism which failed to affect him 
in the slightest degree. 

Who cannot see that, with the irritated feel- 
ing of intolerance, we put ourselves on the 
plane of the very habit or action we are 
so vigorously condemning? We are inviting 
greater mistakes on our part. For often the 
rouser of our selfish antagonism is quite blind 
to his deficiencies, and unless he is broader in 
his way than we are in ours, any show of 
intolerance simply blinds him the more. Intol- 
erance, through its indulgence, has come to 
assume a monstrous form. It interferes with 
all pleasure in life ; it makes clear, open inter- 
course with others impossible ; it interferes 
with any form of use into which it is permitted 



72 As a Matter of Course. 

to intrude. In its indulgence it is a mon- 
strosity, — in itself it is mean, petty, and 
absurd. 

Let us then work with all possible rapidity 
to relax from contractions of unwillingness, and 
become tolerant as a matter of course. 

Whatever is the plan of creation, we cannot 
improve it through any antagonistic feeling of 
our own against creatures or circumstances. 
Through a quiet, gentle tolerance we leave our- 
selves free to be carried by the laws. Truth 
is greater than we are, and if we can be the 
means of righting any wrong, it is by giving 
up the presumption that we can carry truth, 
and by standing free and ready to let truth 
carry us. 

The same willingness that is practised in 
relation to persons will be found equally 
effective in relation to the circumstances of 
life, from the losing of a train to matters far 
greater and more important. There is as much 
intolerance to be dropped in our relations to 
various happenings as in our relations to per- 
sons ; and the relief to our nerves is just as 
great, perhaps even greater. 

It seems to be clear that heretofore we have 



Tolerance. 73 

not realized either the rehef or the strength 
of an entire willingness that people and things 
should progress in their own way. How can 
we ever gain freedom whilst we are entangled 
in the contractions of intolerance? ' 

Freedom and a healthy nervous system are 
synonymous; we cannot have one without the 
other. 



74 As a Matter of Course. 



VIII. 
SYMPATHY, 

SYMPATHY, in its best sense, is the ability 
to take another's point of view. Not to 
mourn because he mourns; not to feel injured 
because he feels injured. There are times when 
we cannot agree with a friend in the necessity 
for mourning or feeling injured; but we can 
understand the cause of his disturbance, and 
see clearly that his suffering is quite reasonable, 
from his own point of view. One cannot blame 
a man for being color-blind ; but by thoroughly 
understanding and sympathizing with the fact 
that red must be green as he sees it, one can 
help him to bring his mental retina to a more 
normal state, until every color is taken at its 
proper value. 

This broader sort of sympathy enables us to 
serve others much more truly. 

If we feel at one with a man who is suffering 
from a supposed injury which may be entirely 



Sympathy, 75 

his own fault, we are doing all in our power to 
confirm him in his mistake, and his impression 
of martyrdom is increased and protracted in pro- 
portion. But if, with a genuine comprehension 
of his point of view, however unreal it may be in 
itself, we do our best to see his trouble in an 
unprejudiced light, that is sympathy indeed ; for 
our real sympathy is with the man himself, 
cleared from his selfish fog. What is called 
our sympathy with his point of view is more a 
matter of understanding. The sympathy which 
takes the man for all in all, and includes the 
comprehension of his prejudices, will enable us 
to hold our tongues with regard to his prejudiced 
view until he sees for himself or comes to us for 
advice. 

It is interesting to notice how this sympathy 
with another enables us to understand and for- 
give one from whom we have received an injury. 
His point of view taken, his animosity against 
us seems to follow as a matter of course ; then 
no time or force need be wasted on resentment. 

Again, you cannot blame a man for being 
blind, even though his blindness may be abso- 
lutely and entirely selfish, and you the sufferer 
in consequence. 



76 As a Matter of Course. 

It often follows that the endeavor to get a 
clear understanding of another's view brings 
to notice many mistaken ideas of our own, 
and thus enables us to gain a better standpoint 
It certainly helps us to enduring patience; 
whereas a positive refusal to regard the preju- 
dices of another is rasping to our own nerves, 
and helps to fix him in whatever contraction 
may have possessed him. 

There can be no doubt that this open sym- 
pathy is one of the better phases of our human 
intercourse most to be desired. It requires a 
clear head and a warm heart to understand the 
prejudices of a friend or an enemy, and to 
sympathize with his capabilities enough to help 
him to clearer mental vision. 

Often, to be sure, there are two points of 
view, both equally true. But they generally 
converge into one, and that one is more easily 
found through not disputing our own with 
another's. Through sympathy with him we are 
enabled to see the right on both sides, and reach 
the central point. 

It is singular that it takes us so long to 
recognize this breadth of sympathy and practise 
it. Its practice would relieve us of an immense 



Sympathy. 77 

amount of unnecessary nerve-strain. But the 
nerve-relief is the mere beginning of gain to 
come. It steadily opens a clearer knowledge 
and a heartier appreciation of human nature. 
We see in individuals traits of character, good 
and bad, that we never could have recognized 
whilst blinded by our own personal prejudices. 
By becoming alive to various little sensitive 
spots in others, we are enabled to avoid them, 
and save an endless amount of petty suffering 
which might increase to suffering that was 
really severe. 

One good illustration of this want of sympathy, 
in a small way, is the waiting-room of a well- 
known nerve-doctor. The room is in such a 
state of confusion, it is such a mixture of colors 
and forms, that it would be fatiguing even for 
a person in tolerable health to stay there for 
an hour. Yet the doctor keeps his sensitive, 
nervously excited patients sitting in this hetero- 
geneous mass of discordant objects hour after 
hour. Surely it is no psychological subtlety of 
insight that gives a man of this type his name 
and fame : it must be the feeding and resting 
process alone ; for a man of sensitive sympathy 
would study to save his patients by taking 



78 As a Matter of Course. 

their point of view, as well as to bring them to 
a better physical state through nourishment 
and rest. 

The ability to take a nervous sufferer's point 
of view is greatly needed. There can be no 
doubt that with that effort on the part of 
friends and relatives, many cases of severe 
nervous prostration might be saved, certainly 
much nervous suffering could be prevented. 

A woman who is suffering from a nervous 
conscience writes a note which shows that she 
is worrying over this or that supposed mis- 
take, or as to what your attitude is towards 
her. A prompt, kind, and direct answer will 
save her at once from further nervous suffering 
of that sort. To keep an anxious person, 
whether he be sick or well, watching the mails, 
is a w^ant of sympathy which is also shown in 
many other ways, unimportant, perhaps, to us, 
but important if we are broad enough to take 
the other's point of view. 

There are many foolish little troubles from 
which men and women suffer that come only 
from tired nerves. A wise patience with such 
anxieties will help greatly towards removing 
their cause. A wise patience is not indulgence. 



Sympathy. 79 

An elaborate nervous letter of great length is 
better answered by a short but very kind note. 

The sympathy which enables us to understand 
the point of view of tired nerves gives us the 
powder to be lovingly brief in our response to 
them, and at the same time more satisfying 
than if we responded at length. 

Most of us take human nature as a great 
whole, and judge individuals from our idea in 
general. Or, worse, we judge it all from our 
own personal prejudices. There is a grossness 
about this which we wonder at not having seen 
before, when we compare the finer sensitiveness 
which is surely developed by the steady effort 
to understand another's point of view. We 
know a whole more perfectly as a whole if we 
have a distinct knowledge of the component 
parts. We can only understand human nature 
en masse through a daily clearer knowledge of 
and sympathy with its individuals. Every one 
of us knows the happiness of having at least 
one friend whom he is perfectly sure will neither 
undervalue him nor give him undeserved praise, 
and whose friendship and help he can count 
upon, no matter how great a wrong he has 
done, as securely as he could count upon his 



8o As a Matter of Course. 

loving thought and attention in physical illness. 
Surely it is possible for each of us to ap- 
proach such friendship in our feeling and atti- 
tude towards every one who comes in touch 
with us. 

It is comparatively easy to think of this open 
sympathy, or even practise it in big ways ; it 
is in the little matters of everyday life that the 
difficulty arises. Of course the big ways count 
for less if they come through a brain clogged 
with little prejudices, although to some extent 
one must help the other. 

It cannot be that a man has a real open 
sympathy who limits it to his own family and 
friends ; indeed, the very limit would make the 
open sympathy impossible. One is just as far 
from a clear comprehension of human nature 
when he limits himself by his prejudices for his 
immediate relatives as when he makes himself 
alone the boundary. 

Once having gained even the beginning of 
this broader sympathy with others, there follows 
the pleasure of freedom from antagonisms, 
keener delight in understanding others, individ- 
ally and collectively, and greater ability to serve 
others; and all these must give an impetus 



Sympathy. 8 1 

which takes us steadily on to greater freedom, 
to clearer understanding, and to more power 
to serve and to be served. 

Others have many experiences which we 
have never even touched upon. In that case, 
our ability to understand is necessarily limited. 
The only thing to do is to acknowledge that 
we cannot see the point of view, that we have 
no experience to start from, and to wait with an 
open mind until we are able to understand. 

Curiously enough, it is precisely these persons 
of limited experience who are most prone to 
prejudice. I have heard a man assert with 
emphasis that it was every one's dtity to be 
happy, who had apparently not a single thing 
in life to interfere with his own happiness. The 
duty may be clear enough, but he certainly 
was not in a position to recognize its difficulty. 
And just in proportion with his inability to 
take another's point of view in such difficulty 
did he miss his power to lead others to this 
agreeable duty. 

There are, of course, innumerable things, little 
and big, which we shall be enabled to give to 
others and to receive from others as the true 
sympathy grows. 

6 



82 Asa Matter of C curse. 

The common-sense of it all appeals to us 
forcibly. 

Who wants to carry about a mass of personal 
prejudices when he can replace them by the 
warm, healthy feeling of sympathetic friendship? 
Who wants his nerves to be steadily irritated 
by various forms of intolerance when, by un- 
derstanding the other's point of view, he can 
replace these by better forms of patience? 

This lower relief is little compared with the 
higher power gained, but it is the first step up, 
and the steps beyond go ever upward. Human 
nature is worth knowing and worth loving, and 
it can never be known or loved without open 
sympathy. 

Why, we ourselves are human nature ! 

Many of us would be glad to give sympathy 
to others, especially in little ways, but we do 
not know how to go to work about it ; we seem 
always to be doing the wrong thing, when our 
desire is to do the right. This comes, of course, 
from the same inability to take the other's point 
of view; and the ability is gained as we are quiet 
and watch for it. 

Practice, here as in everything else, is what 
helps. And the object is well worth working for. 



Others. 83 



IX. 

OTHERS. 

HOW to live at peace with others is a prob- 
lem which, if practically solved, would re- 
lieve the nervous system of a great weight, and 
give to living a lightness and ease that might for 
a time seem weirdly unnatural. It would cer- 
tainly decrease the income of the nerve-special- 
ists to the extent of depriving those gentlemen 
of many luxuries they now enjoy. 

Peace does not mean an outside civility with 
an inside dislike or annoyance. In that case, 
the repressed antagonism not only increases the 
brain-impression and wears upon the nervous 
system, but it is sure to manifest itself some 
time, in one form or another ; and the longer it 
is repressed, the worse will be the effect. It may 
be a volcanic eruption that is produced after 
long repression, which simmers down to a 
chronic interior grumble; or it may be that 
the repression has caused such steadily increas- 



84 As a Matter of Course. 

ing contraction that an eruption is impossible. 
In this case, hfe grows heavier and heavier, bur- 
dened with the shackles of one's own dishkes. 

If we can only recognize two truths in our re- 
lations with others, and let these truths become 
to us a matter of course, the worst difficulties 
are removed. Indeed, with these two simple 
bits of rationality well in hand, we may safely 
expect to walk amicably side by side with our 
dearest foe. 

The first is, that dislike, nine times out of ten, 
is simply a ** cutaneous disorder." That is, it is 
merely an irritation excited by the friction of 
one nervous system upon another. The tiny 
tempests in the tiny teapots which are caused 
by this nervous friction, the great weight at- 
tached to the most trivial matters of dispute, 
would touch one's sense of humor keenly if it 
were not that in so many cases these tiny tem- 
pests develop into real hurricanes. Take, for 
example, two dear and intimate friends who 
have lived happily together for years. Neither 
has a disposition which is perfect ; but that fact 
has never interfered with their friendship. Both 
get over-tired. Words are spoken which sound 
intensely disagreeable, even cruel. They really 



Others. 85 

express nothing in the world but tired nerves. 
They are received and misinterpreted by tired 
nerves on the other side. So these two sets of 
nerves act and react upon one another, and 
from nothing at all is evolved an ill-feeling 
which, if allowed to grow, separates the friends. 
Each is fully persuaded that his cutaneous 
trouble has profound depth. By a persistent 
refusal of all healing salves it sometimes sinks 
in until the disease becomes really deep seated. 
All this is so unnecessary. Through the same 
mistake many of us carry minor dislikes which, 
on account of their number and their very pet- 
tiness, are wearing upon the nerves, and keep 
us from our best in whatever direction we may 
be working. 

The remedy for all these seems very clear 
when once we find it. Recognize the shallow- 
ness of the disorder, acknowledge that it is a 
mere matter of nerves, and avoid the friction. 
Keep your distance. It is perfectly possible 
and very comfortable to keep your distance 
from the irritating peculiarities of another, 
while having daily and familiar relations with 
him or her. The difficulty is in getting to a 
distance when we have allowed ourselves to be 



86 As a Matter of Course. 

over-near ; but that, too, can be accomplished 
with patience. And by keeping a nervous dis- 
tance, so to speak, we are not only relieved 
from irritation, but we find a much more de- 
lightful friendship; we see and enjoy the quali- 
ties in another which the petty irritations had 
entirely obscured from our view. If we do not 
allow ourselves to be touched by the personal 
peculiarities, we get nearer the individual 
himself. 

To give a simple example which would per- 
haps seem absurd if it had not been proved 
true so many times : A man was so annoyed by 
his friend's state of nervous excitabiHty that in 
taking a regular morning walk with him, which 
he might have enjoyed heartily, he always 
returned fagged out. He tried whilst walking 
beside his friend to put himself in irnaginatioii 
on the other side of the street. The nervous 
irritation lessened, and finally ceased; the walk 
was delightful, and the friend — never suspected ! 

A Japanese crowd is so well-bred that no one 
person touches another; one need never jostle, 
but, with an occasional *' I beg your pardon," 
can circulate with perfect ease. In such a 
crowd there can be no irritation. 



others. 87 

There is a certain good-breeding which leads 
us to avoid friction with another's nervous sys- 
tem. It must, however, be an avoidance inside 
as well as outside. The subterfuge of holding 
one's tongue never works in the end. There 
is a subtle communication from one nervous 
system to another which is more insinuating 
than any verbal intercourse. Those nearest us, 
and whom we really love best, are often the 
very persons by whom we are most annoyed. 
As we learn to keep a courteous distance from 
their personal peculiarities our love grows 
stronger and more real ; and an open frankness 
in our relation is more nearly possible. Strangely 
enough, too, the personal peculiarities some- 
times disappear. It is possible, and quite as 
necessary, to treat one's own nervous system 
with this distant courtesy. 

This brings us to the second simple truth. 
In nine cases out of ten the cause of this nerv- 
ous irritation is in ourselves. If a man loses 
his temper and rouses us to a return attack, 
how can we blame him? Are we not quite as 
bad in hitting back? To be sure, he began it. 
But did he? How do we know what roused 
him? Then, tooj he might have poured vol- 



88 As a Matter of Course. 

leys of abuse upon us, and not provoked an 
angry retort, if the temper had not been latent 
within us, to begin with. So it is with minor 
matters. In direct proportion to our freedom 
from others is our power for appreciating their 
good points; just in proportion to our slavery 
to their tricks and their habits are we blinded 
to their good points and open to increased 
irritation from their bad ones. It is curious 
that it should work that way, but it does. If 
there is nothing in us to be roused, we are all 
free ; if we are not free, it is because there is 
something in us akin to that which rouses us. 
This is hard to acknowledge. But it puts our 
attitude to others on a good clean basis, and 
brings us into reahty and out of private theatri- 
cals ; not to mention a clearing of the nervous 
system which gives us new power. 

There is one trouble in dealing with peo- 
ple which does not affect all of us, but which 
causes enough pain and suffering to those who 
are under its influence to make up for the im- 
munity of the rest. That is, the strong feeling 
that many of us have that it is our duty to 
reform those about us whose life and ways are 
not according to our ideas of right. 



Others. 89 

No one ever forced another to reform, against 
that other's will. It may have appeared so ; but 
there is sure to be a reaction sooner or later. 
The number of nervous systems, however, that 
have been overwrought by this effort to turn 
others to better ways, is sad indeed. And in 
many instances the owners of these nervous 
systems will pose to themselves as martyrs; 
and they are quite sincere in such posing. 
They are living their own impressions of them- 
selves, and wearing themselves out in conse- 
quence. If they really wanted right for the 
sake of right, they would do all in their power 
without intruding, would recognize the other 
as a free agent, and wait. But they want right 
because it is their way; consequently they are 
crushed by useless anxiety, and suffer super- 
fluously. This is true of those who feel them- 
selves under the necessity of reforming all who 
come in touch with them. It is more sadly 
true of those whose near friends seem steadily 
to be working out their own destruction. To 
stand aside and be patient in this last case 
requires strength indeed. But such patience 
clears one's mind to see, and gives power to 
act when action can prove effective. Indeed, as 



go As a Matter of Course. 

the ability to leave others free grows in us, our 
power really to serve increases. 

The relief to the nervous system of dropping 
mistaken responsibility cannot be computed. 
For it is by means of the nervous system that 
we deal with others ; it is the medium of our 
expression and of our impression. And as it 
is cleared of its false contractions, does it not 
seem probable that we might be opened to an 
exquisite delight in companionship that we 
never knew before, and that our appreciation 
of human nature would increase indefinitely? 

Suppose when we find another whose ways 
are quite different from ours, we immediately 
contract, and draw away with the feeling that 
there is nothing in him for us. Or suppose, 
instead, that we look into his ways with real 
interest in having found a new phase of human 
nature. Which would be the more broadening 
process on the whole, or the more delightful? 
Frequently the contraction takes more time and 
attention than would an effort to understand the 
strange ways. We are almost always sure to find 
something in others to which we can respond, 
and which awakens a new power in us, if only a 
new power of sympathy. 



Others. g i 

To sum it all up, the best way to deal with 
others seems to be to avoid nervous friction of 
any sort, inside or out; to harbor no ill-will 
towards another for selfishness roused in one's 
self; to be urged by no presumptive sense of 
responsibility ; and to remember that we are all 
in the same world and under the same laws. A 
loving sympathy with human nature in general, 
leads us first to obey the laws ourselves, and 
gives us a fellow-feeling with individuals which 
means new strength on both sides. 

To take this as a matter of course does not 
seem impossible. It is simply casting the skin 
of the savage and rising to another plane, where 
there will doubtless be new problems better 
worth attention. 



92 As a Matter of Course. 



X. 

ONE'S SELF. 

'T^O be truly at peace with one's self means 
-*- rest indeed. 

There is a quiet complacency, though, which 
passes for peace, and is like the remarkably 
clear red-and-white complexion which indicates 
disease. It will be noticed that the sufferers 
from this complacent spirit of so-called peace 
shrink from openness of any sort, from others 
or to others. They will put a disagreeable feel- 
ing out of sight with a rapidity which would 
seem to comxC from sheer fright lest they should 
see and acknowledge themselves in their true 
guise. Or they will acknowledge it to a cer- 
tain extent, with a pleasure in their own 
humility which increases the complacency in 
proportion. This peace is not to be desired. 
With those who enjoy it, a true knowledge of 
or friendship with others is as much out of the 



Ones Self. 93 

question as a knowledge of themselves. And 
when it is broken or interfered with in any way, 
the pain is as intense and real as the peace was 
false. 

The first step towards amicable relations with 
ourselves is to acknowledge that we are living 
with a stranger. Then it sometimes happens 
that through being annoyed by some one else 
we are enabled to recognize similar disagreeable 
tendencies in ourselves of which we were totally 
ignorant before. 

As honest dealing with others always pays 
best in the end, so it is in all relations with one's 
self. There are many times when to be quite 
open with a friend we must wait to be asked. 
With ourselves no such courtesy is needed. 
We can speak out and done with it, and the 
franker we are, the sooner we are free. For, 
unlike other companions, we can enjoy our- 
selves best when we are conspicuous only by 
our own absence ! 

It is this constant persistence in clinging to 
ourselves that is most in the way ; it increases 
that crown of nervous troubles, self-conscious- 
ness, and makes it quite impossible that we 
should ever really know ourselves. If by all 



94 As a Matter of Course. 

this, we are not ineffable bores to ourselves, 
we certainly become so to other people. 

It is surprising, when once we come to recog- 
nize it, how we are in an almost chronic state of 
posing to ourselves. Fortunately, a clear recog- 
nition of the fact is most effectual in stopping 
the poses. But they must be recognized, pose 
by pose, individually and separately stopped, 
and then ignored^ if we want to free ourselves 
from ourselves entirely. 

The interior posing-habit makes one a slave 
to brain-impressions which puts all freedom 
out of the question. To cease from such pos- 
ing opens one of the most interesting gates to 
natural life. We wonder how we could have 
obscured the outside view for so long. 

To find that we cannot, or do not, let our- 
selves alone for an hour in the day seems the 
more surprising when we remember that there 
is so much to enjoy outside. Egotism is im- 
mensely magnified in nervous disorders; but 
that it is the positive cause of much nervous 
trouble has not been generally admitted. 

Let any one of us take a good look at the 
amount of attention given by ourselves to our- 
selves. Then acknowledge, without flinching, 



Ones Self. 95 

what amount of that attention is unnecessary; 
and it will clear the air delightfully, for a mo- 
ment at any rate. 

The tendency to refer everything, in some 
w^ay or another, to one's self; the touchiness 
and suspicion aroused by nothing but petty 
jealousy as to one's own place ; the imagined 
slights from others ; the want of consideration 
given us, — all these and many more senseless 
irritations are in this over-attention to self. The 
worries about our own moral state take up so 
great a place with many of us as to leave 
no room for any other thought. Indeed, it is 
not uncommon to see a woman worrying so 
over her faults that she has no time to correct 
them. Self-condemnation is as great a vanity 
as its opposite. Either in one way or another 
there is the steady temptation to attend to 
one's self, and along with it an irritation of 
the nerves which keeps us from any sense of 
real freedom. 

With most of us there is no great depth to the 
self-disease if it is only stopped in time. When 
once we are well started in the wholesome prac- 
tice of getting rid of ourselves, the process is 
rapid. A thorough freedom from self once 



96 ^s a Matter of Course. 

gained, we find ourselves quite companionable, 
which, though paradoxical, is without doubt a 
truth. 

, '' That freedom of the soul," writes Fenelon, 
*' which looks straight onward in its path, losing 
no time to reason upon its steps, to study them, 
or to dwell upon those already taken, is true 
simplicity/' We recognize a mistake, correct it, 
go on and forget. If it appears again, correct 
it again. Irritation at the second or at any 
number of reappearances only increases the 
brain-impression of the mistake, and makes 
the tendency to future error greater. 

If opportunity arises to do a good action, 
take advantage of it, and silently decline the 
disadvantage of having your attention riveted 
to it by the praise of others. 

A man who is constantly analyzing his phys- 
ical state is called a hypochondriac. What 
shall we call the man who is constantly ana-- 
lyzing his moral state? As the hypochon- 
driac loses all sense of health in holding the 
impression of disease, so the other- gradually 
loses the sense of wholesome relation to himself 
and to others. 

If a man obeyed the laws of health as a mat- 



Ones Self. 97 

ter of course, and turned back every time Na- 
ture convicted him of disobedience, he would 
never feel the need of self-analysis so far as his 
physical state was concerned. Just so far as 
a man obeys higher laws as a matter of course, 
and uses every mistake to enable him to know 
the laws better, is morbid introspection out 
of the question w^ith him. 

** Man, know thyself! " but, being sure of the 
desire to know thyself, do not be impatient 
at slow progress; pay little attention to the 
process, and forget thyself, except when remem- 
bering is necessary to a better forgetting. 

To live at real peace with ourselves, we must 
surely let every little evil imp of selfishness 
show himself, and not have any skulking around 
corners. Recognize him for his full worthless- 
ness, call him by his right name, and move off. 
Having called him by his right name, our sever- 
ity with ourselves for harboring him is unneces- 
sary. To be gentle with ourselves is quite as 
important as to be gentle with others. Great 
nervous suffering is caused by this over-severity 
to one's self, and freedom is never accomplished 
by that means. Many of us are not severe 
enough, but very many are too severe. One 

7 



98 As a Matter of Course, 

mistake is quite as bad as the other, and as 
disastrous in its effects. 

If we would regard our own state less, or 
careless whether we were happy or unhappy, 
our freedom from self would be gained more 
rapidly. 

As a man intensely interested in some special 
work does not notice the weather, so we, if we 
once get hold of the immense interest there may 
be in living, are not moved to any depth by 
changes in the clouds of our personal state. 
We take our moods as a matter of course, and 
look beyond to interests that are greater. Self 
may be a great burden if we allow it. It is only 
a clear window through which we see and are 
seen, if we are free. And the repose of such 
freedom must be beyond our conception until 
we have found it. To be absolutely certain that 
we know ourselves at any time is one great 
impediment to reaching such rest. Every bit 
of self-knowledge gained makes us more doubt- 
ful as to knowledge to come. It would surprise 
most of us to see how really unimportant we 
are. As a part of the universe, our importance 
increases just in proportion to the laws that 
work through us; but this self-importance is lost 



Ones Self. 99 

to us entirely in our greater recognition of the 
laws. As we gain in the sensitive recognition 
of universal laws, every petty bit of self-contrac- 
tion disappears as darkness before the rising 
of the sun. 



lOO As a Matter of Course. 



XL 

CHILDREN. 

TT rORK for the better progress of the 
^ ^ human race is most effective -when it 
is done through the children; for children are 
future generations. The freedom in mature Hfe 
gained by a training that would enable the child 
to avoid nervous irritants is, of course, greatly 
in advance of most individual freedom to-day. 
This real freedom is the spirit of the kinder- 
garten ; but Frobel's method, as practised 
to-day, does not attack and put to rout all those 
various nervous irritants which are the enemies 
of our civilization. To be sure, the teaching 
of his philosophy develops such a nature that 
much pettiness is thrown off without even being 
noticed as a snare ; and Frobel helps one to 
recognize all pettiness more rapidly. There 
are, however, many forms of nervous irritation 
which one is not warned against in the kinder- 
garten, and the absence of which, if the child is 



Children. lor 

taught as a matter of course to avoid them, will 
give him a freedom that his elders and betters (?) 
lack. The essential fact of this training is that 
it is only truly effectual when coming from ex- 
ample rather than precept. 

A child is exquisitely sensitive to the short- 
comings of others, and very keen, as well as cor- 
rect, in his criticism, whether expressed or unex- 
pressed. In so far as a man consents to be taught 
by children, does he not only remain young, but 
he frees himself from the habit of impeding his 
own progress. This is a great impediment, this 
unwillingness to be taught by those whom we 
consider more ignorant than ourselves because 
they have not been in the world so long. Did 
no one ever take into account the possibility of 
our eyes being blinded just because they had 
been exposed to the dust longer? Certainly 
one possible way of clearing this dust and 
avoiding it is to learn from observing those 
who have had less of it to contend with. 
Indeed, one might go so far as to say that no 
training of any child could be effectual to a 
lasting degree unless the education was mutual. 
When Frobel says, /^Come, let us live with our 
children," he does not mean, Come, let us stoop 



I02 As a Matter of Course. 

to our children ; he means, Let us be at one 
with them. Surely a more perfect harmony 
in these two great phases of human nature — 
the child and the man — would be greatly to 
the advantage of the latter. 

Yet, to begin at the beginning, who ever feels 
the necessity of treating a baby with respect? 
How quickly the baby would resent intrusive 
attentions, if it knew how. Indeed, I have seen 
a baby not a year old resent being transferred 
from one person to another, with an expression 
of the face that was most eloquent. Women 
seem so full of their sense of possession of a 
baby that this eloquence is not even observed, 
and the poor child's nervous irritants begin at a 
very early age. There is so much to be gained 
by keeping at a respectful nervous distance from 
a baby, that one has only to be quiet enough 
to perceive the new pleasure once, to lose the 
temptation to interfere ; and imagine the relief 
to the baby ! It is, after all, the sense of pos- 
session that makes the trouble ; and this sense 
is so strong that there are babies, all the way 
from twenty to forty, whose individuality is 
intruded upon so grossly that they have never 
known what freedom is ; and when they venture 



Children. 103 

to struggle for it, their suffering is intense. 
This is a steadily increasing nervous contraction, 
both in the case of the possessed and the pos- 
sessor, and perfect nervous health is not pos- 
sible on either side. To begin by. respecting 
the individuality of the baby would put this last 
abnormal attitude of parent and child out of the 
question. Curiously enough, there is in some 
of the worst phases of this parent-child contrac- 
tion an external appearance of freedom which 
only enhances the internal slavery. When a 
man, who has never known what it was in 
reality to give up a strong will, prides himself 
upon the freedom he gives to his child, he 
is entangling himself in the meshes of self- 
deception, and either depriving another of his 
own, or ripening him for a good hearty hatred 
which may at any time mean volcanoes and 
earthquakes to both. 

This forcible resentment of and resistance to 
the strong will of another is a cause of great 
nervous suffering, the greater as the expression 
of such feeling is repressed. Severe illness may 
easily be the result. 

To train a child to gain freedom from the 
various nervous irritants, one must not only be 



I04 Asa Matter of Course. 

gaining the same freedom one's self, but must 
practise meeting the child in the way he is 
counselled to meet others. One must refuse to 
be in any way a nervous irritant to the child. 
In that case quite as much instruction is received 
as given. A child, too, is doubly sensitive ; he 
not only feels the intrusion on his own individu- 
ality, but the irritable or self-willed attitude of 
another in expressing such intrusion. 

Similarly, in keeping a respectful distance, a 
teacher grows sensitive to the child, and again 
the help is mutual, with sometimes a balance in 
favor of the child. 

This mistaken, parent-child attitude is often 
the cause of severe nervous suffering in those 
whose only relation is that of friendship, when 
one mind is stronger than the other. Some- 
times there is not any real superior strength on 
the one side ; it is simply by the greater gross- 
ness of the will that the other is overcome. 
This very grossness blinds one completely to 
the individuality of a finer strength ; the finer 
individual succumbs because he cannot compete 
with crowbars, and the parent-child contraction 
is the disastrous result. To preserve for a child 
a normal nervous system, one must guide but 



Children. 105 

not limit him. It is a sad sight to see a mother 
impressing upon a little brain that its owner is 
a naughty, naughty boy, especially when such 
impression is increased by the irritability of the 
mother. One hardly dares to think how many 
more grooves are made in a child's brain 
which simply give him contractions to take 
into mature life with him ; how m.any trivial 
happenings are made to assume a monstrous 
form through being misrepresented. It is worth 
while to think of such dangers, such warping 
influences, only long enough to avoid them. 

A child's imagination is so exquisitely alive, 
his whole little being is so responsive, that the 
guidance which can be given him through 
happy brain-impressions is eminently practi- 
cable. To test this responsiveness, and feel it 
more keenly, just tell a child a dramatic story, 
and watch his face respond; or even recite a 
Mother-Goose rhyme with all the expression at 
your command. The little face changes in 
rapid succession, as one event after another is 
related, in a way to put a modern actor to 
shame. If the response is so quick on the 
outside, it must be at least equally active 
within. 



io6 As a Matter of Course. 

One might as well try to make a white rose 
red by rouging its petals as to mould a child 
according to one's own idea of what he should 
be; and as the beauty and delicacy of the rose 
would be spoiled by the application of the 
pigment, so is the baby's nervous system twisted 
and contracted by the Hmiting force of a 
grosser will. 

Water the rose, put it in the sun, keep the 
insect enemies away, and then enjoy it for itself. 
Give the child everything that is consistent with 
its best growth, but neither force the growth 
nor limit it; and stand far enough off to see the 
individuality, to enjoy it and profit by it. Use 
the child's imagination to calm and strengthen 
it; give it happy channels for its activity; guide 
it physically to the rhythm of fresh air, nourish- 
ment, and rest; then do not interfere. 

If the man never turns to thank you for such 
guidance, because it all came as a matter of 
course, a wholesome, powerful nervous system 
will speak thanks daily with more eloquence 
than any words could ever express. 



Illness. 107 



XII. 

ILLNESS, 

A S far as we make circumstances guides and 
•^^^ not limitations, they serve us. Other- 
wise, we serve them, and suffer accordingly. 
Just in proportion, too, to our allowing circum- 
stances to be limits do we resist them. Such 
resistance is a nervous strain which disables us 
physically, and of course puts us more in the 
clutches of what appears to be our misfortune. 
The moment we begin to regard every circum- 
stance as an opportunity, the tables are turned 
on Fate, and we have the upper hand of her. 

When we come to think of it, how much 
common-sense there is in making the best of 
every *' opportunity," and what a lack of sense 
in chafing at that which we choose to call our 
limitations ! The former way is sure to bring a 
good result of some sort, be it ever so small; 
the latter wears upon our nerves, blinds our 



io8 As a Matter of Course. 

mental vision, and certainly does not cultivate 
the spirit of freedom in us. 

How absurd it would seem if a wounded 
man were to expose his wound to unnecessary 
friction, and then complain that it did not heal ! 
Yet that is what many of us have done at one 
time or another, when prevented by illness from 
carrying out our plans in life just as we had 
arranged. It matters not whether those plans 
were for ourselves or for others; chafing and 
fretting at their interruption is just as absurd 
and quite as sure to delay our recovery. ** I 
know," with tears in our eyes, ^^ I ought not to 
complain, but it is so hard." To which com- 
mon-sense may truly answer: *' If it is hard, 
you want to get well, don't you? Then why 
do you not take every means to get well, instead 
of indulging first in the very process that will 
most tend to keep you ill? " Besides this, there 
is a dogged resistance which remains silent, 
refuses to complain aloud, and yet holds a state 
of rigidity that is even worse than the external 
expression. There are many individual ways 
of resisting. Each of us knows his own, and 
knows, too, the futility of it; we do not need 
to multiply examples. 



Illness. 109 

The patients who resist recovery are quite as 
numerous as those who keep themselves ill by 
resisting illness. A person of this sort seems to 
be fascinated by his own body and its disorders. 
So far from resisting illness, he may be said to 
be indulging in it. He will talk about himself 
and his physical state for hours. He will locate 
each separate disease in a way to surprise the 
listener by his knowledge of his own anatomy. 
Not infrequently he will preface a long account 
of himself by informing you that he has a 
hearty detestation of talking about himself, and 
never could understand why people wanted to 
talk of their diseases. Then in minute de- 
tail he will reveal to you his brain-impression 
of his own case, and look for sympathetic 
response. These people might recover a hun- 
dred times over, and they would never know it, 
so occupied are they in living their own idea of 
themselves and in resisting Nature. 

When Nature has knocked us down because 
of disobedience to her laws, we resist her if we 
attempt at once to rise, or complain of the pun- 
ishment. When the dear lady would hasten our 
recovery to the best of her ability, we resist 
her if we delay progress by dwelling on the 
punishment or chafing at its necessity. 



I lo As a Matter of Course. 

Nature always tends towards health. It is to 
prevent further ill- health that she allows us to 
suffer for our disobedience to her laws. It is 
to lead us back to health that she is giving the 
best of her powers, having dealt the deserved 
punishment. The truest help we can give 
Nature is not to think of our bodies, well or 
ill, more than is necessary for their best 
health. 

I knew a woman who was, to all appear- 
ances, remarkably well ; in fact, her health was 
her profession. She was supposed to be a 
Priestess of Health. She talked about and 
dwelt upon the health of her body until one 
would have thought there was nothing in the 
world worth thinking of but a body. She dis- 
played her fine points in the way of health, and 
enjoyed being questioned with regard to them. 
This woman was taken ill. She exhibited the 
same interest, the same pleasure, in talking over 
and dwelling upon her various forms of illness; 
in fact, more. She counted her diseases. I am 
not aware that she ever counted her strong 
points of health. 

This illustration is perhaps clear enough to 
give a new sense of the necessity for forgetting 
our bodies. VVlien ill, use every necessary 



Illness. 1 1 1 

remedy; do all that is best to bring renewed 
health. Having made sure you are doing all 
you can, forget ; don't follow the process. 
When, as is often the case, pain or other suffer- 
ing puts forgetting out of the question, use no 
unnecessary resistance, and forget as soon as 
the pain is past. Don't strengthen the impres- 
sion by talking about it or telling it over to no 
purpose. Better forego a little sympathy, and 
forget the pain sooner. 

It is with our nerves that we resist when 
Nature has punished us. It is nervous strain 
that we put into a useless attention to and 
repetition of the details of our illness. Nature 
wants all this nerve-force to get us well the 
faster; we can save it for her by not resisting 
and by a healthy forgetting. By taking an 
illness as comfortably as possible, and turning 
our attention to something pleasant outside of 
ourselves, recovery is made more rapidly. 

Many illnesses are accompanied by more or 
less nervous strain, and its natural control will 
assist nature and enable medicines to work 
more quickly. The slowest process of recov- 
ery, and that which most needs the relief of a 
wholesome non-resistance, is when the illness 



112 As a Matter of Course. 

is the result entirely of over-worked nerves. 
Nature allows herself to be tried to the utmost 
before she permits nervous prostration. She 
insists upon being paid in full, principal and 
interest, before she heals such illness. Sa 
severe is she in this case that a patient may 
appear in every way physically well and strong 
weeks, nay, months, before he really is so. It 
was the nerves that broke down last, and the 
nerves are the last to be restored. It is, how- 
ever, wonderful to see how much more rapid 
and certain recovery is if the patient will only 
separate himself from his nervous system, and 
refuse all useless strain. 

Here are some simple directions which may 
help nervous patients, if considered in regular 
order. They can hardly be read too often if 
the man or woman is in for a long siege; and 
if simply and steadily obeyed, they will shorten 
the siege by many days, nay, by many weeks 
or months, in some cases. 

Remember that Nature tends towards health. 
All you want is nourishment, fresh air, exercise, 
rest, and patience. 

All your worries and anxieties now are tired 
nerves. 



Illness. 113 

When a worry appears, drop it. If it appears 
again, drop it again. And so continue to drop 
it if it appears fifty or a hundred times a day 
or more. 

If you feel like crying, cry; but know that 
it is the tired nerves that are crying, and don't 
wonder why you are so foolish, — don't feel 
ashamed of yourself. 

If you cannot sleep, don't care. Get all the 
rest you can without sleeping. That will bring 
sleep when it is ready to come, or you are ready 
to have it. 

Don't wonder whether you are going to sleep 
or not. Go to bed to rest, and let sleep come 
when it pleases. 

Think about everything in Nature. Follow 
the growing of the trees and flowers. Remem- 
ber all the beauties in Nature you have ever 
seen. 

Say Mother-Goose rhymes over and over, 
trying how many you can remember. 

Read bright stories for children, and quiet 
novels, especially Jane Austen's. 

Sometimes it helps to work on arithmetic. 

Keep aloof from emotions. 

Think of other people, 
8 



114 As a Matter of Course. 

Never think of yourself. 

Bear in mind that nerves always get well in 
waves; and if you thought yourself so much 
better, — almost well, indeed, — and then have a 
bad time of suffering, don't wonder why it is, 
or what could have brought it on. Know that 
it is part of the recovery-process; take it as 
easily as you can, and then ignore it. 

Don't try to do any number of things to get 
yourself well; don't change doctors any num- 
ber of times, or take countless medicines. 
Every doctor knows he cannot hurry your 
recovery, whatever he may say, and you only 
retard it by being over-anxious to get strong. 

Drop every bit of unnecessary muscular 
tension. 

When you walk, feel your feet heavy, as if 
your shoes were full of lead, and think in 
your feet. 

Be as much like a child as possible. Play 
with children as one of them, and think with 
them when you can. 

As you begin to recover, find something 
every day to do for others. Best let it be in the 
way of house-work, or gardening, or something 
to do with your hands. 



Illness. 1 1 5 

Take care of yourself every day as a matter 
of course, as you would dress or undress ; and 
be sure that health is coming. Say over and 
over to yourself: Nourishment, fresh air, exer- 
cise, rest, PATIENCE. 

When you are well, and resume your former 
life, if old associations recall the unhappy 
nervous feelings, know that it is only the associ- 
ations; pay no attention to the suffering, and 
work right on. Only be careful to take life 
very quietly until you are quite used to being 
well again. 

An illness that is merely nervous is an im- 
mense opportunity, if one will only realize it 
as such. It not only makes one more genuinely 
appreciative of the best health, and the way to 
keep it, it opens the sympathies and gives a 
feeling for one's fellow-creatures which, having 
once found, we cannot prize too highly. 

It would seem hard to believe that all must 
suffer to find a delicate sympathy; it can hardly 
be so. To be always strong, and at the same 
time full of warm sympathy, is possible, with 
more thought. When illness or adverse cir- 
cumstances bring it, the gate has been opened 
for us. 



1 1 6 As a Matter of Course. 

If illness is taken as an opportunity to better 
health, not to more illness, our mental attitude 
will put complaint out of the question; and as 
the practice spreads it will as surely decrease 
the tendency to illness in others as it will 
shorten its duration in ourselves. 



Sentiment versus Sentimentality. 1 1 7 



XIII. 

SENTIMENT versus SENTIMENTALITY. 

T7REED0M from sentimentality opens the 
-■- way for true sentiment. 

An immense amount of time, thought, and 
nervous force is wasted in sentimentaHzing 
about ^* being good.'' With many, the amount 
of talk about their evils and their desire to 
overcome them is a thermometer which indi- 
cates about five times that amount of thought. 
Neither the talk nor the thought is of assistance 
in leading to any greater strength or to a more 
useful life ; because the talk is all talk, and the 
essence of both talk and thought is a selfish, 
morbid pleasure in dwelling upon one's self. 
I remember the remark of a young girl who 
had been several times to prayer-meeting where 
she heard the same woman say every time that 
she *Monged for the true spirit of religion in 
her life." With all simplicity, this child said: 
" If she longs for it, why does n't she work and 



1 18 As a Matter of Course. 

find it, instead of coming every week and telling 
us that she longs?" In all probability the 
woman returned from every prayer-meeting with 
the full conviction that, having told her aspira- 
tions, she had reached the height desired, and 
was worthy of all praise. 

Prayer-meetings in the old, orthodox sense 
are not so numerous as they were fifty years 
ago ; but the same morbid love of telling one's 
own experiences and expressing in words one's 
own desires for a better life is as common 
as ever. 

Many who would express horror at these 
public forms of sentimentalizing do not hesitate 
to indulge in it privately to any extent. Nor 
do they realize for a moment that it is the same 
morbid spirit that moves them. It might not 
be so pernicious a practice if it were not so 
steadily weakening. 

If one has a spark of real desire for better 
ways of living, sentimentalizing about it is a sure 
extinguisher if practised for any length of time. 

A woman will sometimes pour forth an 
amount of gush about wishing to be better, 
broader, nobler, stronger, in a manner that 
would lead you, for a moment, perhaps, to be- 



Sentiment versus Sentimentality. 1 1 9 

lieve in her sincerity. But when, in the next 
hour, you see her neglecting Httle duties that 
a woman who was really broad, strong, and noble 
would attend to as a matter of course, and not 
give a second thought to ; when you see that 
although she must realize that attention to these 
^mailer duties should come first, to open the 
way to her higher aspirations, she continues to 
neglect them and continues to aspire, — you are 
surely right in concluding that she is using up 
her nervous system in sentimentalizing about a 
better life ; and by that means is doing all in 
her power to hinder the achievement of it. 

It is curious and very sad to see what might 
be a really strong nature weakening itself 
steadily with this philosophy and water. Of 
course it reaches a maudlin state if it continues. 

His Satanic Majesty must offer this dose, 
sweetened with the sugar of self-love, with 
intense satisfaction. And if we may personify 
that gentleman for the sake of illustration, what 
a fine sarcastic smile must dwell upon his coun- 
tenance as he sees it swallowed and enjoyed, 
and knows that he did not even have to waste 
spice as an ingredient! The sugar would have 
drowned the taste of any spice he could supply. 



1 20 As a Matter of Course. 

There is not even the appearance of strength 
in sentimentalizing. 

Besides the sentimentalizing about ourselves 
in our desire to live a better life, there is the 
same morbid practice in our love for others; 
and this is quite as weakening. It contains, of 
course, no jot of real affection. What whole- 
some love there is lives in spite of the sentimen- 
talizing, and fortunately is sometimes strong 
enough on one side or the other to crowd it out 
and finally exterminate it. 

It is curious to notice how often this sham 
sentiment for others is merely a matter of 
nerves. As an instance we can take an 
example, which is quite true, of a woman who 
fancied herself desperately fond of another, when, 
much to her surprise, an acute attack of tooth- 
ache and dentist-fright put the " affection " 
quite out of her head. In this case the ''love" 
was a nervous irritant, and the toothache a 
counter-irritant. Of course the sooner such 
superficial feeling is recognized and shaken off, 
the nearer we are to real sentiment. 

''But," some one will say, "how are we to 
know what is real and what is not? I would 
much rather live my life and get more or less 



Sentiment versus Sentimentality. 121 

unreality than have this everlasting analyzing." 
There need be no abnormal analyzing; that is 
as morbid as the other state. Indulge to your 
heart's content in whatever seems to you real, 
in what you believe to be wholesome sentiment. 
But be ready to recognize it as sham at the 
first hint you get to that effect, and to drop it 
accordingly. 

A perfectly healthy body will shed germs 
of disease without ever feeling their presence. 
So a perfectly healthy mind will shed the germs 
of sentimentality. Few of us are so healthy in 
mind but that we have to recognize a germ or 
two and apply a disinfectant before we can reach 
the freedom that will enable us to shed the germs 
unconsciously. A good disinfectant is, to refuse 
to talk of our own feelings or desires or affec- 
tions, unless for some end which we know may 
help us to more light and better strength. 
Talking, however, is mild in its weakening effect 
compared with thinking. It is better to dribble 
sham sentiment in words over and over than to 
think it, and repress the desire to talk. The 
only clear w^ay is to drop it from our minds 
the moment it appears ; to let go of it as we 
would loosen our fingers and drop something 
disagreeable from our hands. 



12 2 As a Matter of Course, 

A good amount of exercise and fresh air 
helps one out of sentimentaHzing. This morbid 
mental habit is often the result of a body ill in 
some way or another. Frequently it is simply 
the effect of tired nerves. We help others and 
ourselves out of it more rapidly by not men- 
tioning the sentimentalizing habit, but by taking 
some immediate means towards rest, fresh air, 
vigorous exercise, and better nourishment. 

Mistakes are often made and ourselves or 
others kept an unnecessary length of time in 
mental suffering because we fail to attribute a 
morbid mental state to its physical cause. We 
blame ourselves or others for behavior that we 
call wicked or silly, and increase the suffering, 
when all that is required is a little thoughtful 
care of the body to cause the silly wickedness 
to disappear entirely. 

We are supposed to be indulging in sickly 
sentiment when we are really suffering from 
sickly nerves. An open sympathy will detect 
this mistake very soon, and save intense suffer- 
ing by an early remedy. 

Sentiment is as strengthening as sentimentality 
is weakening. It is as strong, as clear, and as 
fine in flavor as the other is sickly sweet. No 



Sentiment versus Sentimentality, 123 

one who has tasted the wholesome vigor of the 
one could ever care again for the weakening 
sweetness of the other, however much he might 
have to suffer in getting rid of it. True senti- 
ment seeks us ; we do not seek it. It not only 
seeks us, it possesses us, and runs in our blood 
like the new life which comes from fresh air 
on top of a mountain. With that true senti- 
ment we can feel a desire to know better things 
and to live them. We can feel a hearty love 
for others ; and a love that is, in its essence, the 
strongest of all human loves. We can give and 
receive a healthy sympathy which we could 
never have known otherwise. We can enjoy 
talking about ourselves and about'' being good," 
because every word we say will be spontaneous 
and direct, with more thought of law than of 
self. This true sentiment seeks and finds us 
as we recognize the sham and shake it off, and 
as we refuse to dwell upon our actions and 
thoughts in the past, or to look back at all 
except when it is a necessity to gain a better 
result. 

We are like Orpheus, and true sentiment is 
our Eurydice with her touch on our shoulder; 
the spirits that follow are the sham-sentiments, 



1 24 As a Matter of Course. 

the temptations to look back and pose. The 
music of our lyre is the love and thought we 
bring to our every-day life. Let us keep steadily 
on with the music, and lead our Eurydice right 
through Hades until we have her safely over 
the Lethe, and we know sentimentality only as 
a name. 



Problems. 125 



XIV. 

PROBLEMS. 

THERE are very few persons who have not 
had the experience of giving up a prob- 
lem in mathematics late in the evening, and 
waking in the morning with the solution clear 
in their minds. That has been the experience 
of many, too, in real-life problems. If it were 
more common, a great amount of nervous strain 
might be saved. 

There are big problems and little, real and 
imaginary; and some that are merely tired 
nerves. In problems, the useless nervous ele- 
ment often plays a large part. If the '* prob- 
lems " were dropped out of mind with sufferers 
from nervous prostration, their progress towards 
renewed health might be just twice as rapid. 
If they were met normally, many nervous men 
and women might be entirely saved from even 
a bowing acquaintance with nervous prostration. 
It is not a difficult matter, that of meeting a 



126 As a Matter of Course. 

problem normally, — simply let it solve itself. 
In nine cases out of ten, if we leave it alone and 
live as if it were not, it will solve itself. It is at 
first a matter of continual surprise to see how 
surely this self-solution is the result of a whole- 
some ignoring both of little problems and big 
ones. 

In the tenth case, where the problem must be 
faced at once, to face it and decide to the best 
of our ability is, of course, the only thing to 
do. But having decided, be sure that it ceases 
to be a problem. If we have made a mistake, 
it is simply a circumstance to guide us for simi- 
lar problems to come. 

All this is obvious; we know it, and have 
probably said it to ourselves dozens of times. 
If we are sufferers from nervous problems, we 
may have said it dozens upon dozens of times. 
The trouble is that we have said it and not 
acted upon it. When a problem will persist 
in worrying us, in pulling and dragging upon 
our nerves, an invitation to continue the worry- 
ing until it has worked itself out is a great help 
towards its solution or disappearance. 

I remember once hearing a bright woman say 
that when there was anything difficult to decide 



Problems. 127 

in her life she stepped aside and let the oppos- 
ing elements fight it out within her. Presum- 
ably she herself threw in a little help on one 
side or the other which really decided the bat- 
tle. But the help was given from a clear stand- 
point, not from a brain entirely befogged in the 
thick of the fight 

Whatever form problems may take, however 
important they may seem, when they attack 
tired nerves they must be let alone. A good 
way is to go out into the open air and so 
identify one's self with Nature that one is drawn 
away in spite of one's self. A big wind will 
sometimes blow a brain clear of nervous prob- 
lems in a very little w^hile if we let it have 
its will. Another way out is to interest one's 
self in some game or other amusement, or to 
get a healthy interest in other people's affairs, 
and help where we can. 

Each individual can find his own favorite 
escape. Of course we should never shirk a 
problem that must be decided, but let us 
always wait a reasonable time for it to decide 
itself first. The solving that is done for us 
is invariably better and clearer than any we 
could do for ourselves. 



1 28 As a Matter of Course. 

It will be curious, too, to see how many 
apparently serious problems, relieved of the 
importance given them by a strained nervous 
system, are recognized to be nothing at all. 
They fairly dissolve themselves and disappear. 



Summary. 129 



XV. 

SUMMARY. 

THE line has not been clearly drawn, either 
in general or by individuals, between true 
civilization and the various perversions of the 
civilizing process. This is mainly because we 
do not fairly face the fact that the process 
of civilization is entirely according to Nature, 
and that the perversions which purport to be a 
direct outcome of civilization are, in point of 
fact, contradictions or artificialities which are 
simply a going-over into barbarism, just as too 
far east is west. 

If you suggest *' Nature " in habits and cus- 
toms to most men nowadays, they at once 
interpret you to mean *' beastly," although they 
would never use the word. 

It is natural to a beast to be beastly : he could 
not be anything else ; and the true order of his 
life as a beast is to be respected. It is natural 
to a man to govern himself, as he possesses the 



130 As a Matter of Course. 

power of distinguishing and choosing. With 
all the senses and passions much keener, and 
in their possibilities many degrees finer, than 
the beasts, he has this governing power, which 
makes his whole nervous system his servant 
just in so far as through this servant he 
loyally obeys his own natural laws. A man 
in building a bridge could never complain when 
he recognized that it was his obedience to the 
laws of mechanics which enabled him to build 
the bridge, and that he never could have arbi- 
trarily arranged laws that would make the 
bridge stand. In the same way, one who has 
come to even a slight recognition of the laws 
that enable him to be naturally civilized and not 
barbarously so, steadily gains, not only a realiza- 
tion of the absolute futility of resisting the laws, 
but a growing respect and affection for them. 

It is this sham civilization, this selfish refine- 
ment of barbarous propensities, this clashing of 
nervous systems instead of the clashing of 
weapons, which has been largely, if not en- 
tirely, the cause of such a variety and extent 
of nervous trouble throughout the so-called 
civilized world. It is not confined to nerv- 
ous prostration; if there is a defective spot 



Summary. 131 

organically, an inherited tendency to weakness, 
the nervous irritation is almost certain to con- 
centrate upon it instead of developing into a 
general nervous break-down. 

With regard to a cure for all this, no super- 
ficial remedy, such as resting and feeding, is 
going to prove of lasting benefit ; any more 
than a healing salve will suffice to do away with 
a blood disease which manifests itself by sores 
on the surface of the skin. No physician would 
for a moment inveigle himself into the belief 
that the use of external means alone would cure 
a skin disease that was caused by some internal 
disorder. Such skin irritation may be easily 
cured by the right remedy, whereas an external 
salve would only be a means of repression, and 
would result in much greater trouble subse- 
quently. 

Imagine a man superficially cured of an ill- 
ness, and then exposed while yet barely conva- 
lescent to influences which produce a relapse. 
That is what is done in many cases when a 
patient is rested, and fattened like a prize pig, 
and then sent home into all the old conditions, 
with nothing to help him to elude them but a 
well-fed, well-rested body. That, undeniably, 



132 As a Matter of Course. 

means a great deal for a short period ; but the 
old conditions discover the scars of old wounds, 
and the process of reopening is merely a matter 
of time. From all sides complaints are heard 
of the disastrous results of civilization; while 
with even a slight recognition of the fact that 
the trouble was caused by the rudiments of bar- 
barism, and that the higher civilization is the 
life which is most truly natural, remedies for 
our nervous disorders w^ould be more easily 
found. 

It is the perversions of the natural process of 
civilization that do the harm ; just as with so- 
called domesticated flowers there arise coarse 
abnormal growths, and even diseases, which the 
wholesome, delicate organism of a wild flower 
makes impossible. 

The trouble is that we do not know our own 
best powers at all ; the way is stopped so eff"ect- 
ually by this persistent nervous irritation. With 
all its superficiality, it is enough to impede the 
way to the clear, nervous strength which is cer- 
tainly our inheritance. 

After all, what has been said in the foregoing 
chapters is simply illustrative of a prevalent 
mental skin-disorder. 



Summary. 133 

If the whole world were suffering from a 
physical cutaneous irritation, the minds of in- 
dividuals would be so concentrated on their 
sensations that no one could know of various 
wonderful powers in his own body which are 
now taken as a matter of course. There would 
be self-consciousness in every physical action, 
because it must come through, and in spite 
of, external irritation. Just in so far as each 
individual one of us found and used the right 
remedy for our skin-trouble should we be free 
to discover physical powers that were unknown 
to our fellow-sufferers, and free to help them to 
a similar remedy when they were willing to be 
helped. 

This mental skin-disorder is far more irritat 
ing and more destructive, and not only leads 
to, but actually is, in all its forms, a sort of self- 
consciousness through which we work with real 
difficulty. 

To discover its shallowness and the simplicity 
of its cure is a boon we can hardly realize until, 
by steady application, we have found the relief. 
The discovery and cure do not lead to a miil- 
lennium any more than the cure of any skin dis- 
ease guarantees permanent health. For deeper 



1 34 As a Matter of Course. 

personal troubles there are other remedies. Each 
will recognize and find his own; but freedom, 
through and through, can never be found, or 
even looked for clearly, while the irritation 
from the skin disease is withdrawing our at- 
tention. 

" But, friends, 
Truth is within ourselves : it takes no rise 
From outward things ; whatever you may btheve, 
Tijere is an inmost centre in us all 
Where truth abides in fulness ; and around, 
Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, 
This perfect clear perception which is truth. 
A baffling nnd perverting carnal mesh 
riinds it, and makes all error; and to know 
Rather consists in opening ow a wav 
Whence the imprisoned s])lenr]or may escape, 
Than in eff:cting entry for a light 
Supposed to be wiihout." 

Browning's ''baffling and perv^erting carnal 
mcsli " might be truly interpreted as a nervous 
tangle which is nothing at all except as we 
make it with our own perverted sight. 

To help us to move a little distance from the 
phantom tangle, that it may^ disappear before 
our ey^es, has been the aim of this book. So by 



Simzrnary. 135 

curing our mental skin-disease as a matter of 
course, and then forgetting that it ever existed, 
we may come to real life. This no one can 
find for another, but each has within himself 
the way. 



THE END. 



POWER THROUGH REPOSE. 

By ANNIE PAYSON CALL. 

" When the body is perfectly adjusted, perfectly supplied with force y 
perfectly free, and works with the greatest ecojiomy of expenditure, it is 
fitted to be a perfect instrninent alike of impression, experience, and 
expressionP — W. R. Alger. 



One Handsome 1 6mo Volume. Cloth. Price, $1.00. 



"This book is needed. The nervous activity, the intellectual 
wear and tear, of this day and land requires a physical repose 
as has none other. Every intellectual worker finds so much stim- 
ulant in his associations and in the opportunities for labor that 
he takes on more and more responsibilities, till he has all the strain 
it is possible for him to carry when everything goes smoothly, and 
when complications arise he has no reserve for emergencies." — 
fournal of Education. 

." A book which has a peculiar timeliness and value for a great 
number of people in this country is ' Power through Repose,' by 
Annie Payson Call. This volume, which is written in a very 
interesting and entertaining style, is a moderate and judicious effort 
to persuade Americans that they are living too hard and too fast, 
and to point out specifically the physical and intellectual results 
of incessant strain. To most people the book has a novel sugges- 
tiveness. It makes us feel that we are the victims of a disease of 
which we were largely ignorant, and that there are remedies within 
our reach of which we are equally ignorant. \Ye know of no 
volume that has come from the press in a long time which, widely 
and wisely read, could accomplish so much immediate good as 
this little book. It is the doctrine of physical rest stated in un- 
technical language, with practical suggestions. It ought to be in 
the hands of at least eight out of every ten men and women now 
living and working on this continent.'' — Christian Union, 



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THE WEDDING GARMENT, 

a Cale of t|)e life to Come* 
BY LOUIS PENDLETONa 



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*'The Wedding Garment" tells the story of the continued existence of a young 
man after his death or departure from the natural world. Awakening in the 
other world, — in an intermediate region between Heaven and Hell, where the 
good and the evil live together temporarily commingled, — he is astonished and 
delighted to find himself the same man in all respects as to every characteristic ot 
his mind and ultimate of the body. So closely does everything about him 
resemble the world he has left behind, that he believes he is still in the latter 
until convinced of the error. The young man has good impulses, but is no saint, 
and he listens to the persuasions of certain persons who were liis friends in the 
world, but who are now numbered among the evil, even to the extent of foliov'.ing 
them downward to the very confines of Hell. Resisting at last and saving him- 
self, later on, and after many remarkable experiences, he gradually makes his way 
through tiie intermediate region to the gateways of Heaven, — which can be found 
only by those prepared to enter, — where he is left v\ith the prospect before him 
of a blessed eternity in the company of the woman he loves 

The book is written in a reverential spirit, it is unique and quite unlike any 
story of the same type heretoiore pub.ished, full of telling incidents and dramatic 
situations, and not merely a record of the doings of sexless "shades" but of 
livhig human beings. 

The one grand practical lesson which this book teaches, and which is in 
accord with the divine Word and the New Church unl'oldings of it everywhere 
teach, is the neei of an interior, trr.e purpose in life. The deepest ruling pur- 
pose which we cherish, what we constantly strive for and determine to pursue as 
the most real and precious thing ot life, that rules us everywhere, that is our ego, 
our life, is what will have its way at last. It will at last break through all dis- 
guise ; it will bring all external conduct into harmony with itself. If it be an 
evil and selfish end, all external ai.d fair moralties will melt away, and the man 
will lose his common sense and exhibit his insanities of opinion and will and 
answering deed on the surface, l^ut if that end be good and mnocjnt, and there 
be humility within, the outward disorders and evils which result from one's 
heredity or snrroundmgs will finally disappear. — F^oin Rez>. Joint Goddard s 
discoitrse, July i, 1^94 

Putting aside the question as to whether the scheme of the soul's develo])- 
ment after death was or was not revealed to Sw'edenborg, whether or not tiie 
title of seer can be added to tiie claims of this learned student of sc ence, all this 
need not interfere witji the moral infiuence of this work, although the weight of 
its instruction must be greatly enforced on the minds of those who beiie\e in a 
later inspiration than the go-pels. 

I'his story be'2;ins wliere others end ; the title of the first cha]-iter, " 1 Die," 
commands attention ; the process of the souFs disenthralment is certainly in liar- 
mony with v hat we sometimes read in the dim eyes of friends \ye follow to the 
very erate of li:c. " By wh.it power does a single spark hold to life so long . 
this lingering of the divine spark of life in a body growing cold? " It is the 
mission of the amhcr to te;ir trom Deatli its long-established thoughts of horror, 
and uj^on its enrince i to n new ife. the soul posses-es sucii a power of adjust- 
ment lliat no bhock is expeiienced. — Boston Transcript. 



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govern the elemental impulses of the human heart. To read the three 
little slories in this book is to touch close upon the mysteries of love and 
fate and to behold the workings of tragedies that are acted in tlie soul. 
Tkj B J aeon. 

Tluee small gems are the only contents of this literary casket ; and yet 
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There is a peculiar charm about all of these stories that o'ute escapes 
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scyli faat is well nigh classic in its simplicity INIiss Schreiner excites (-ur 
emoti. ns and gently stimulates our imagination. — The Bu^Qct. 

All the sketches reveal originality of treatment, but the first one is a 
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THE WHAT-TO-DO CLUB. 

A STORY FOR GIRLa 

By Helen Campbell. 
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*• • The What-to-do Club ' is an unpretending story. It ii.troduces \18 to a 

fiOfsen or more village girls of varying ranks. One has had superior opportuni- 
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some are farmers' daughters ; there is a teacher, two or three poor se^f-support- 
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cur country." — The Chautauquan. 

" 'The What-to-do Club ' is a delightful story for girls, especially for New 
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beautiful, resolute, and d.^voled daughter of a broken-down but highly educateo 
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determined young woman to accomplish when she sets out to eavn her own living, 
or help others. Sybil begins with odd jobs of carpentering, and becomes an artist 
in woodwork. She is first jeered at, then admired, respected, and finally loved 
by a worthy man. The book closes pleasantly with John claiming Sybil as hie 
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successful competition in the battles of life." — Golden Rule. 

*' In the form of a story, this book suggests ways in which young women 
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aid the dialects various and characteristic. Mrs. Campbell is a natural story» 
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incjdenis of tlirtation, courtship, and matrimony. Fun and pathos, s^nse and 
senamen:, ar3 mmgled throughout, and the combination has resulted in one d 
ihfe brightest stories of the season.'* — Woman's Journal. 



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THE 

INTELLECTUAL LIFE. 

By PHILIP GILBERT HAMERTON, 

AUTHOR GP 

••A Painter's Camp," "Thoughts About Art/' "The Un- 
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•• In many respects this is a remarkable book, ~ the last and best productioa 
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which is steeped in that sweetness and light, the virtues of which Mr. Arnold so 
eloquently preaches. Compared with Mr. Haraerton's former writings, 'Tha 
Intellectual Life ' ^ is incomparably his best production. .... But above all, 
and specially as critics, are we charmed with the large impartiality of the writer. 
Mr. Hamerton is one of those peculiarlv fortunate men who have the inclinatioo 
and means to live an ideal life. From his youth he has lived in an atmosphere 
of culture and light, moving with clipped wings in a charmed circle of thought 
Possessing a peculiarly refined and delicate nature, a passionate love of beauty, 
and purity and art ; and having the means to gratify his tastes, Mr. Hamerton 
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study of books and nature and his fellow men, has so purified his intellect and 
tempered his judgment, that he is able to view things from a higher platform even 
than more able men whose natures have Seen soured, cramped, or influenced b^ 
the necessities of a laborious existence, rience the rare impartiality of his deci- 
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ing crowds that thronged the beleagjred city." 

"This book is written with perfect singleness of purpose to help others 
towards an intellectual life," says the Boston Daily Advertiser. 

•* It is eminently a book of counsel and instruction," says the Boston Post* 
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JBys the New York Daily Mail. 

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PRISONERS OF POVERTY. 

WOMEN WAGE- WORKERS : THEIR TRADES AND 
THEIR LIVES. 

By HELEN CAMPBELL, 

UTHOR OF "the WHAT-TO-DO CLUB," " MRS. HERNDOn's INCOME/' '^ MISS 

melinda's opportunity," etc. 
l6mo. Cloth. $1.00. Paper, 50 cents. 



The author writes earnestly and warmly, but without prejudice, and her volume 
is an eloquent plea lor the amelioration of the eviiS with which she deals. In ilie 
present importance into v\hich the labor question generally has loon;ed, this vol- 
ume is a timely and valuable contribution to its iiteracure, and merits wide read- 
ing and careful thought. — Sanirday Eveiiijig Gazette. 

She has given us a most effective picture of the condition of New York workmg- 
women, because she has brought to the study of the subject not only great care 
but uncommon aptitude. She has made a close personal investigation, extending 
apparently over a long time ; she has had the penetration to search many queer 
and dark corners which are not often thought of by similar explorers; and we 
suspect that, unlike too many philanthropists, she has the faculty of winning con- 
fidence and extracting the truth. She is sympathetic, but not a sentimentalist ; 
she appreciates exactness in facts and figures ; she can see both sides of a ques- 
tion, and she has abundant common sense. — New York Tribu7ie. 

Helen Campbell's "Prisoners of Poverty" is a striking example of the trite 
phrase that " truth is stranger than fiction." It is a series of pictures of the lives 
of women wage-workers in New York, based on the minutest personal inquiry and 
observation. No work of fiction has ever presented more startling pictures, and, 
indeed, if they occurred in a novel would at once be stamped as a figment of the 
brain. . . . Altogether, Mrs. Campbell's book is a notable contribution to the labor 
literature of the day, and will undoubtedly enlist sympathy for the cause of the op- 
pressed working- women whose stories do their own pleading. — Sprui^field Union. 

It is good to see a new book by Helen Campbell. She has written several 
for the cause of working-women, and now comes her latest and best work, cal ed 
*' Prisoners of Poverty," on women wage-workers and their lives. It is compiled 
from a series of papers written for the Sunday edition of a New York paper. The 
author i^ well qualified to w^ite on these topics, having personally investigated the 
horrible situation of a vast army of working-women in JNiew York, — a reflection of 
the same conditions that exist in all large cities. 

It is glad tidings to hear that at last a voice is raised for the woman side of these 
great labor questions that are seething below the surface calm of society. And it 
is well that one so eloquent and sympathetic as Helen Campbell has spoken in be- 
half of the victims and against the horrors, the injustices, and the crimes that have 
forced them into conditions of living — if it can be called living — that are worse than 
death. It is painful to read of these terrors that exist so near our doors, but none 
the less necessary, for no person of mind or heart can thrust this knowledge aside- 
It is the first step towards a solution of the labor complications, some of which 
have assumed foul shapes and colossal proportions, through ignorance, weakness, 
and wickedness. — Hartford Times. 

Sold by all booksellers. Mailed^ post-paid^ on receipt oj 
^rice^ by the publishers^ 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 

Boston. 



BITS OF TALK 

ABOUT HOME MATTERS. 

By H. H. 

Auiaor of ** Verses,'*^ and " Bits of Travel'''^ Squan 
\Z7n0. Cloth^ red edges. Price, $1.25. 



"A New Gospel for Mothers. — We wish that e-^'ery mother in 
the land would read ' Bits of Talk about Home Matters, by H. H., and 
that they would read it thoughtfully. The latter suggestion is, however, 
wholly unnecessary : the book seizes one's thoughts and sympathies, as 
only startling truths presented with direct earnestness can do. . . . The 
adoption of her sentiments would who.ly change the atmosphere in many 
a house to what it ought to be, and bring almost constant sunshine and 
bliss where now too often are storm and misery." — Lawrence {Kansas) 
Journal. 

" In the little book entitled * Bits of Talk,' by H. H., Messrs. Roberta 
Brothers have given to the world an uncommonly useful collection of 
essays, — useful certainly to all parents, and likely to do good to all chil- 
dren. Other people have doubtless held as correct views on the subjects 
treated here, though few have ever advanced them ; and none that we are 
aware have made them so attractive as they are made by H. H.'s crisp 
and sparkling style. No one opening the book, even though without rea- 
son for special interest in its topics, could, after a glimpse at its pages, 
lay it down unread ; and its bright and witty scintillations will f.x many a 
precept and establish many a fact. * Bits of Talk ' is a book that ought 
to have a place of honor in every household ; for it teaches, not only the 
true dignity of parentage, but of childhood. As we read it, we laugh and 
cry with the author, and acknowledge that, since the child is father oi 
the man, in being the champion of childhood, she is the champion of the 
whole coming race. Great is the rod, but H. H. is not its prophet I" — 
M^-s^ Harriet Prescott Spofford^ in Newburyport Herald' 



Sold everywhere. Mailed., ;posi-paid, by the pub^ 
Ushers^ 

LITTLE, BROWN; AND COMPANY, 

Boston. 



DAILY STRENGTH FOR 
DAILY NEEDS. 

Selected by the Editor of ''Quiet Hours,'' 

i6mo. Cloth, Price ^i.oo ; white cloth, gilt, ^1.25. 

♦— 

*' This little bcok is made up of selections from Scripture, and verses 
of poetry, and prose selections for each day of the year. We turn with 
confidei.ce to any selections of this kind which Mrs. Tileston may make. 
In her ' Quiet Hours,' ' Sunshine for the Soul,' ' The Blessed Life,' and 
other v/orks, she has brought together a large amount of rich devotional 
material in a poetic form. Her present book does not disappoint us. 
We hail with satisfaction every contribution to devotional literature 
which shall be acceptable to liberal Christians. This selection is made 
up from a wide range of autliors, and there is an equally wide range of 
topics. It is an excellent book for private devotion or for use at the 
family altar." — Christian Register. 

" It is made up of brief selections in prose and verse, with accompa- 
nying texts of Scripture, for every day in the year, arranged by the editor 
Df * Quiet Hours,' and Jbr the purpose of ' bringing the reader to perform 
the duties and to bear the burdens of each day with cheerfulness and 
courage.' It is hardly necessary to say that the selection is admirably 
made, and that the names one finds scattered through the volume suggest 
the truest spiritual insight and aspiration. It is a book to have always 
on one's table, and to make one's daily companion." — Christian Union. 

*'They are the words of those wise and holy men, who, in all ages 
have realized the full beauty of spiritual experience. They are words to 
comfort, to encourage, to strengthen, and to uplift into faith and aspira- 
tion. It is pleasant to think of the high and extended moral development 
that were possible, if such a book were generally the daily companion and 
counsellor of thinking men and women Every day of the year has its 
appropriate text and appropriate thoughts, all helping towards the best 
life of the reader. Such a volume needs no appeal to gain attention to 
it." — Sunday Globe ^ Boston. 



Sold by all booksellers. Mailed^ post-paid^ on 
receipt of price ^ by the Publishers^ 
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, Boston. 



War Department Library 

Washington, D. C. 




Losses or injuries 
must be promptly ad- 
sted. 
No books are is- 
sued during the 
month of August. 
Time limits : 
iTwo weeks, sub- 
ject to renewal at 
the option of the 
Librarian, except as 
hereinafter provided. 
A few new books in 
reat demand are loaned 
seven days only. These 
are distinctly marked^Seven- 
day Books'' and of course, are 
not renewable. 



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